Resonance
by neverland300690
Summary: "Every day each of us experiences moments that have just a bit more resonance than other moments. If we were to collect and save these small moments over a period of months we would hear certain trends emerge from our collection, voices that have been trying to speak through us. We would realize that we have been having another life altogether." - Coupland
1. Chapter 1

_AN: this story woudl drive me insane if it didn't write it down. It's basically a retelling of every moment Skye and Lucas met on the show - and one or two i made up - told from his pov (mostly). Getting in his head was not the most easy thing to do, but it was fun. I hope I've dont the character justice and I hope you like my very first Terra Nova fic! :)_

**1.**

He had been watching her for a while. Watching her go back and forth between two camps: the spy.

Loved and wanted on one side, distrusted and mistreated by the other.

Cut off from both.

She was a good spy, probably because she was so likable, friendly, so very pretty. Everyone trusted her open manner, mild temper, helpfulness, friendliness. Nobody noticed her watchful eyes, her careful stance, always on alert, always taking note of everything. They all loved her and didn't care to look deeper.

How could you distrust a thirteen year old after all. And such a lovely one as her none the less.

He had come to realize she was the spy very accidentally. In the beginning, he had been interested in her for other reasons, more personal reasons. News had come to him that his father had found a stand-in for him, a substitute. Despite himself, he had been curious. He had watched on with disdain, wanting to see if she was loved by the great commander, if his dear father gave her what he had always refused to give to his own son.

If Nathaniel Taylor had any amount of affection for that little girl, then she would become one more target that would need to be destroyed slowly, just so that his father could hear her scream.

So he had kept his ears open for her.

Which was why, one casual day and completely by accident, he had caught her out in the wild, out of paradise's gates.

He had been intrigued at first. His father had his subjects spooked good and proper on the dangers and of the jungle: nobody dared go out by themselves, let alone a child of thirteen. Yet there she was…

Maybe there was more to this little girl than a pretty face and a sweet smile.

He had flowed her in the shadows like a predator, keeping watch completely invisible. Taken note of her stealth, her ability to walk through the forest as if she didn't touch the ground she treaded upon. At first glance she seemed awkwardly scrawny, legs and arms uncoordinated. But she was determined, focused. Her movements were fast, precise – a testament to the fact that she had spent a great deal of her time walking those paths, climbing those hills.

That however didn't keep her from slipping, from almost falling. She fumbled because of her nerves: her hands shook, her eyes were wide and fearful, pained; her breath uneven in a way that had nothing to do with exertion. She was focused and driven, but every once in a while she lost herself to her own thoughts.

She was going to get herself killed if she kept that up.

The more she walked, the farther away she got from Terra Nova, the more he became convinced that his was not a casual escapade. He had known from her very first steps that her direction was not accidental, that she had a clear objective in mind. An objective that she needed to keep secret – which was the only reason a child like her would venture all alone in a jungle where even the smallest bite from the wrong insect could kill you.

That was the moment he understood she was the spy.

Inwardly, he couldn't help the burst of sadistic pleasure: Nathaniel Taylor seemed to be cursed with children bent to destroy him and what he stood for. And the beauty of this setting was that Lucas was sure his father would never in a million years suspect that little girl to be the one betraying him. It was just too perfect, too well set up, as if the universe had connived this just to make Lucas laugh.

In that moment, realizing that this child was a traitor to his father and was working against him made Lucas feel, for the first time, a small amount of comradeship toward this girl.

They had more in common than he had first thought.

For a moment Lucas entertained the thought of blowing her cover, just to watch his father heart break. But then he thought better of it. Now that Lucas knew the betrayal was inevitable, he wanted his father to learn to love this girl. He wanted her to win his hear over: with that face and that smile, Lucas doubted it would be difficult.

_Then_ he would expose her, and in the process break his father's heart.

So he held off.

And time passed.

He kept watching her from afar, gathering bits and pieces of info whenever he could without being obvious about it. Slowly she won his respect: she had been a spy for a year, not generating even the smallest of suspicions. She was very well liked in all the colony, knew everyone - and everyone's habits, routines. She was friends with the soldiers, the Shannons, had access to the command center as if she lived there, could come and go as she liked in every single corner of his father kingdom.

His father's substitute child, the little traitor.

The thought amused Lucas whenever it crossed his mind. This couldn't have worked better if he'd planned it himself.

And predictably, his father learned to care for her. The old man was as pathetic as Lucas had thought him.

Lucas would have loved breaking the little girl's cover then, exposing her, and ruining what was left of Nathaniel Taylor's stand-in family.

But one thing stopped his hand: her reasons.

_Why_ was she a spy? What was the force that drove her actions?

Lucas never acted without having the full picture and when it came to her, the full picture escaped him. He could easily learn this info by asking Mira, but - living in the jungle for five years on his own had made him a very self sufficient man and increased his paranoia even more: He was too proud to ask someone to do something he could easily do himself. He knew that he was very well capable of learning more of her if he so wished without the help of Mira and her own.

But there was a problem.

That little girl was apparently one of the best kept secrets in the Sixer camp. Only a very secretive handful knew that she came and went and nobody but Mira's personal command knew her reasons for doing so. But it didn't really take much to know that there was something amiss with his father's substitute child.

She was not playing this game of betrayal out of her own desire, or revenge. Her driving force was not from within, it came from outside. She did not enjoy her role, she hated being in the camp and she most certainly felt guilt over her actions – because as his father loved her, so did she have a strong affection for the old man. Lucas could tell from the very look of her that, had she had a choice, she would have never betrayed Taylor.

But even though it had been difficult to learn about her without resorting to Mira's sources, following her once he caught sight of her had been all too easily done.

He'd been shut up in his hut in the camp - as he rarely was, because he rarely stayed within the perimeter of the camp - before he headed off again when she had come along, digging in her purse for something, so out of it that she had not noticed him at all.

But he had seen her.

And followed her without a second thought, knowing this was his chance of finding out her secret.

Nobody dared stop him, he did as he pleased here.

She had changed during that year. Gotten taller, hair longer. Her face was less round, less childish. Her eyes were the color of a clearest sky and serious just like those of a predator. She seemed hard and unreadable as she passed in front of the Sixer soldiers, as she stood in front of Mira and gave her the Intel, leaving Mira's presence as soon as she had the chance, as if not wanting to be in the woman's company any more than strictly necessary.

Everything he saw convinced him more and more that this girl was acting under some sort of duress.

It took him only a few second to find out what it was: she entered a small hut and almost ran to the bed – which was not empty, but occupied by a sickly woman whose sallow face brightened when she took notice of her visitor.

"Hey mom!"

The emotion that almost overflowed in that one word, said with so much love - so much pain - was the first thing that made him feel something other than blinding rage or hatred in almost three years. His heart knew that tone, that pleading note that threatened to choke you like a fist around your throat. His soul recognized that word and instantly his mind reached its conclusion.

He had been wrong: the propelling force behind her actions was not outside her at all: she acted out of love - for her mother.

To save her mother's life.

And in that moment, upon understanding that, his plan shifted, changed without him consciously choosing to have it so. It was the natural inclination and he didn't fight it.

Because Lucas knew in that moment, he would have done the same for his own mother. He _was_, in fact, doing the same. The only reason he pursued his father destruction so fiercely, with such obsession, was because he had loved – he still loved - his mother with the same fierceness that he hated his father. His hate sprung from his love, so did his focus, his anger, his obsession. Every single action he had ever taken had been the reflection of those emotions. Time had mingled them, and now his hatred burned to bright, so without sense or reason that it made him almost maniacal, a creature of instinct and single mindedness, his obsession almost painful.

Hatred had taught him how to survive when all else had failed. It had taught him how to eat, how to breathe. There had been a point, in the dark and alone, when he had thought he would die with so much hatred in his veins.

But now, looking at that fourteen year old girl at her mother's bedside, he felt something in him flutter it wings and rise slowly, as if from deep sleep. Something that had been pushed into the corners of his mind by every other emotions that was so much more violent, but which now for the first time found a reason to emerge:

Empathy.

As strange as it sounded, that girl reminded him of himself more than his own image in a mirror.

Looking at her then, Lucas felt the bond with her deepen, strengthen. That was the first time that he thought of her as his adoptive little sister, when he realized just how much that truly had in common.

He understood her fully. The respect he had for he reasons and actions was one that he had never really given anyone.

He would not expose her. Let his father deal with his traitors himself. No doubt the old man wouldn't find her out until it was too late; he was blind to his own faults and his pride would never let him see what was right under his nose.

That, Lucas understood, was going to make his little sister's job a lot easier… and he suspected she knew that too.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: I tried to keep the dialougue intact and only add in form of emotions and thoughts. I hope it's not redundant. Enjoy_!

**2.**

Two more years had to pass before he finally met with her face to face.

He had visited her mother's hut from time to time during those two years, managing to be there whenever she was there, watching from the shadows, listening in to their conversations, to their stories. It was his only pastime, his only diversion from his plans, his calculations, his obsession. He had been watching her as she grew up, filled out, becoming more beautiful each time he saw her. That inner fire she possessed that made her so fierce never waned, never faded. It seemed to be rekindled every time she saw her mother, as if the mere sight reminded her of her reasons, of her choices and why she had made them.

Reminded her where her true loyalties lied.

And every time he saw them together, Lucas too as reminded of his goals, his reasons. Something inside him warmed at the sight of her every time, because even though she didn't know it, the mere existence of her, the fact that she was under the same sky somewhere, made this world feel less lonely for him, less chaotic. It made sense that she existed, that he had found her; it was as if she had been created just for him – to remind him that no matter how much time he passed in solitude, somewhere not too far from him there was someone else in his exact same circumstances, doing the same thing. Feeling just as abandonee and alone.

In a way, knowing that helped. Ave him focus when his spirits tired from the never-ending frenzy of his hatred.

They shared so much, that the connection between them seemed meant to be, as if someone had orchestrated it carefully. They fit, like two pieces of a perfect puzzle - meeting was serendipity.

Sometimes Lucas had wanted to just walk up to her talk. Have her talk back to him for hours, have her eyes on him the way they never seemed to be.

But he had held off.

Timing had to be right. Other things were more important.

Like finishing his work.

Once that moment came, Lucas realized something important: it had to have been destiny that had guided him to discovering her that day, three years back. It was fate that had guided his work, because without even realizing or anticipating this moment, he was now in her hands. At the very end, when the only thing separating him from 2141 was a reconciliation of all his calculations – _she_ appeared as the solution

That final step was something only she could do for him.

… it could not be something as insignificant as coincidence.

Lucas was glad, strangely amused even, if he really thought about it. Because it seemed fitting to him, that she would have to be the one to confirm his conclusions, all of the work of these past five years. It was _right_ that she should be the one to put in the final piece of this puzzle. He _wanted_ her to be the one to take that final step. She deserved it.

But she didn't know all that yet.

He watched her from the shadows for the last time, as she walked in and straight to her mother's bedside. Skye was so focused that she neglected to check corners.

"Bucket! My sweet Bucket." Her mother's voice was weak, punctuated by a cough.

He didn't see her smile, but it was in her tone, in her word.

"Hey mamma."

"I've been worried, it's been a week."

"I know." She answered regrettably, by without letting everything else drip into her tone. The way she kept things so well hidden was a talent he reasoned.

"You know I worry, I have always." Deborah spoke as if she was apologizing. She was a nice woman after all, but he had not been entirely nice with her. He knew she feared him, had feared him from the very moment she had seen him. Probably because she knew the truth of his banishment, what he was trying to do.

What he was capable of doing.

Her daughter was about to find out as well.

"Are they feeding you ok?"

Confronted with her mother's silence, she sighed, and moved into action, digging around in her purse. "I'll try to come by more often. I brought you some food and…"

She stopped, looking down.

"Where did you get that blanket?"

And that was finally his queue.

"Hello."

Skye turned around, startled by the deep voice – mostly because it was not supposed to be there. _Nobody_ was supposed to be there, Mira had promised her mother would be left alone. She turned swiftly and saw him, sitting there looking at her from the corner, half eaten by shadows.

God he'd been there all along, how had she been so careless?!

He saw her brows pull together, that line between them etched deep. He had watched as she took him in, evaluated him in quick motions like only someone used to living on edge could do. He hadn't been able to help a small smile that tugged one corner of his lips.

Hadn't been able to control the way he had felt when her eyes for the first time had made contact with his.

Lucas had literally _felt_ his insides move, shift and take life filling him with intentions long forgotten. He had not expected such a violent reaction, had not been prepared for it. But he had enjoyed it. Like everything about her, he had liked what she brought out in him. As he liked her propensity for danger, her coolness at handling it, her quick mind and endurance.

Her beauty…

Everything about her drew him in, and that moment when she finally looked at him changed everything.

It breathed life into the shadows of emotions that had long since haunted Lucas' mind. It made everything more real. The intensity of his own reaction surprised him, but not the reaction itself. It was not surprising that she should be the one to make him feel that way. She had been his only anchor to the world for almost three years, he had gotten to know her from the sides, using her as the only diversion he allowed himself.

He'd felt he had a connection with her from the very first time he was able to understand her. It was natural that he should feel this bond now so strong, when he was finally facing her.

"Who are you?" she asked bluntly, instantly on the edge. He noticed her mother trying to signal her to take it easier.

"Bucket, it's alright…"

He decided he would be the one doing the introductions for the night.

"Lucas Taylor." He said getting up to his full height. "The honor's all mine."

And she couldn't know what he meant by those words or how much he meant them. But his name struck a chord with her – as it should. After all, she was his father daughter, his own little sister, Lucas thought not without a tinge of disdain tainting is thoughts.

The confusion in her face only got thicker, as she looked at him from her crouched position by her mother bedside.

"Taylor's son?"

He smiled at that nomenclature. The hatred in his chest contorted, but it came out as a smile that distorted his features into something dangerous.

"Yeah. I've been told I have his eyes."

But with every word, instead of relaxing, she got tenser and looked even more reluctant. "You're supposed to be missing…"

His words weren't cutting it, she was suspicious of him. Well, that was not going to change anytime soon. But her words this time made him wipe his face free from the expression his hatred for his father brought forth and looked at her serenely, almost wanting to smile a real smile.

"_You_ found me." He said simply, and watched her eyebrows pull together again, not understanding his meaning at all.

This time though, her mother managed to get her attention: she was holding on to her hand so tightly that for once Skye was reminded of her old grip back when her mother had had the strength to give a real handshake. Skye looked away from the man professing to be Lucas Taylor and down onto her mother.

It took her one moment to read her expression.

Deborah was terrified.

Lucas watched her as she quickly got up and protectively put herself between him and her mother, as if she was intent on being the shield between whatever he was and the one person she would be ready to die for protecting.

"What do you want?" She asked harshly.

He took slow steps towards her, deliberately trying not to scare her too much, thought he was aware that intimidation was needed. But he had watched her for a long time now, knew her weaknesses well. Violence rarely worked with someone as stubborn as Skye Alexandria Tate. Words were a much better option.

"I want us to be… friends." He said smoothly, smiling even though he was aware that there was nothing he could do to make himself less threatening to her. She was high strung like a cable. When he was a few inches from her, already in her personal space, he looked down at her mother with a smile.

"Your mother and I are friends, right Deb?"

She looked away from him and to her mother.

Deborah really was such a good mother. Even in the face of a tangible threat she was trying not to alarm her daughter.

"Lucas brought the blanket." She clarified, as if to defend him. But he knew Skye didn't buy that. When her eyes turned to him again, they were promptly full of distain. The feeling was so barely hidden that he knew she was not even trying to keep her thoughts a secret. She wanted him to know she despised him and had seen right through his little game.

He smiled.

"Your mother needs her rest. Let's talk outside." He said softly, as if he was confiding a secret. She looked back at her mother, undecided, unwilling to follow him. Instinctively she knew that he would want something from her. Everyone here wanted something from her. More information, more secrets, more betrayals. She loved her mother, but the lies were starting to thicken the air around her and Skye was starting to choke on it every time she took a deep breath.

She didn't want to talk to this man. Whatever he wanted it was bound to be trouble. She had been weary of him right from the start. Because he was a stranger, because he was twice her size, armed and looking every bit as brutal and dangerous as he probably was, even when he leaned casually again the rails of the bridge like he was doing now.

"How sweet. Mommy doesn't know you're a spy does she?" he asked, taunting her to her face. The only response he got was her crossing her arms over her chest protectively, steely eyes staring right back at him fearlessly.

It was that expression on her face that convinced him. He looked away from her and down at the distance from the railing to the floor of the forest, considering it. He wouldn't enjoy doing this, but it was the only way to get her to cooperate and he had known that from the very beginning. She would never bend otherwise, he could see it in her eyes, in the stubbornness there, the resolve. It burned in her cornflower irises like a blue flame, alive and defiant.

He looked back into her eyes, pushing her, trying to figure out her limits.

"My guess is she has no idea what you've had to do to keep her alive."

"Don't talk about my mother." She snapped, not blinking an eyelash.

Ah, his dear little sister... So stubborn and unrelenting. So protective of her mother, and because of that, so easily manipulated.

He smiled. "Why don't we talk about my father then. How is the great commander? Has he walked on water yet? Has he…"

She went very close to rolling her eyes at him. "What do you _want_?" she bit out, annoyed, irritated as if he was wasting her time. Right down to business, just the way he liked her. She had no patience for bullshit.

So he'd make it quick and easy for her.

His eyes sobered. "I have a job for you."

Immediately she tried to get out of it. "I work for Mira."

_Not this time Bucket_. "And who do you think she works for?"

Her expression staggered, her eyes hardened. She was battling between two different impulses: anger, which gave her the strength to be hard in front of him and not to let her fear of him show. And the dread that made her want to crawl into a corner and scream her lungs out. But even thought she refused to give in to the second and grasped at the first like a lifeline, her body language spoke of her underlying emotions: the way her arms were still so tightly crossed over her chest like a shield told Lucas that she feared him.

But the things was, her fear might very well be not of him personally, but of what he would ask her to do.

"The Sixers can't do anything without me. I need you to do something; _believe me_, Mira will understand."

She was silent as she realized that there was no higher power whose authority she could claim here. She as stuck. Her heart started beating faster.

"Do you know what this is?" He asked her, showing her the little device in his hand. She didn't answer, she didn't even look at the thing. He hadn't expected her to.

"My life's work. How to make the time portal go both ways. Almost solved."

"Congratulations." She deadpanned so flatly that he had to smile.

"Thank you." He answered without missing a beat. Then the humor vanished from his eyes. "But the equation needs to be factored and reconciled. I _could_ do it by hand, but it would take weeks, maybe months. In Terra Nova, in the Eye…" he watched her breath freeze in her lungs. She looked away from him, as if breaking eye contact was a way to make him disappear.

He was a more stubborn bastard than that.

"… it could take less than an hour."

There was a beat of silence.

"And you want me to do it." She mumbled looking down to her feet.

"I'll give you a day." Which in his opinion was very generous.

"No." She said resolutely without missing a single beat of the conversation.

Ah, the inevitable stalemate. He smiled ominously as he took a few steps closer to her, invading her personal space, breathing in the faint scent of her shampoo. He had known this moment would come, known it as well as he knew her.

She didn't flinch when he came closer, looked at him right in the eyes defiantly. It send a jolt down his spine and with derision to his own actions, he thought that this move of intimidating her by stepping closer her backfired, because he had probably been more affected than she had.

He took her hand in his, put the device in between in her palm.

"Just plug it in, the Eye will do the rest." He said softly, looking at her with the most serene expression possible.

"What if I don't?"

His expression didn't falter, not one muscle in his face moved. He just stared at her for a moment, the blankness of his look chilling her to the bone.

"It's a long way down. You'll do it - _or_, I'll toss you mother over the side and she'll find out how far down it really it."

And this time she did flinch away from him, took her hand back, her fingers holding on tightly to the device he had given her, the metal biting on her skin. He saw the hatred shine ice cold in her eyes, barely concealed as his softly spoken words laced with the promise of violence that was written all over his face.

Hiding her thoughts and emotions was second nature to her, but with him she didn't have to pretend. All could be in the open with him, because they both knew she hated him.

Lucas didn't mind too much. She would get over it soon enough.

"You better get moving… _Bucket_." He smiled as the word left his lips, as if her nickname amused him.

It sounded distorted from his lips, ugly, and just like that he irreversibly tainted a good memory she had from her childhood.

He left her there, standing near an edge that she couldn't cross but had to jump over anyway. Skye grabbed the railing for support and held on tightly. Two fat tears made their way down her cheeks as she closed her eyes and hung her head. Her shoulders trembled.

He watched her from the shadows, away from her line of vision, as she allowed herself that moment of weakness. It didn't take long for her to gather herself thought. Three or so tears later, she was whipping her cheeks clean and trying – and succeeding – in composing her facial expression into something decent before she went to her mother.

As he watched her, Lucas wondered why was it so difficult to for her to do this one simple thing. Was it because she dint want to betray her home, or because she didn't want to betray his father?

He could deal with her fighting for Terra Nova, but the thought of her loyalties and love for his father itched him in a new, yet familiar way. Thinking of her as someone who was also devoted to his father, she who Lucas felt so close to in such a complicated, intimae way… well, there were few things that irritated him as much.

But Lucas could understand it though, as always, he could understand _her_: The great commander was indeed like a father to her.

But what his dear little sister didn't understand was that her feelings her empty. Lucas didn't take her love for his father seriously, didn't consider it sound, because it was built on lies. She had it all wrong. She was, like everyone in Terra Nova, blinded by the image that his father had build for himself, and as a result, she was incapable of seeing his father's faults, his true nature, the despicable weaknesses that made him nothing more than a mediocre man reaching too high and justifying every choice by claiming higher morals.

Lucas would make her see all that, in time. He had no doubt that she would succeed with this task he had given her and then, after that he planned to let her get to know him. He _wanted_ her to know him, to speak with her, hear her speak of herself. He had known her for three years now. Time had come that the connections became mutual.

He longed to make her see how much alike they truly were, how much they shared, make her understand that she was not alone, that for as long as he existed, she would _never_ be alone.

And neither would he.

And when she understood that, making her see the truth about Nathaniel Taylor would be easy. It would come naturally.

And if she didn't see it, then Lucas would _force_ her eyes open.

She would understand how flawed his father was once she fell out of his good graces. She would see his cruelty when he refused to forgive her for her 'betrayal'. Nathaniel Taylor didn't know forgiveness and in that lied his true ruthlessness. His values and morals were a very thin cover for the naked truth: his father was as much of a monster as he claimed his son to be. The only different was that Lucas was honest about it.

Once his dear sister understood that, their father would lose that special place in her heart. Once she felt the true nature of Taylor's punishment, that knew no boundaries, that didn't recognize extenuating circumstances, she would turn to him.

And he would be there for her.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**3.**

Why was she taking so long? Where was she? Had she been caught? Had his father taken hold of all his work, destroyed it without trace? His blood ran high, fire coursing through his veins. The hatred in him was poisonous.

But just as he thought he was about to lose his own sanity going back and forth between questions, another thought stopped him.

Another thought ran through his mind, one that chilled him. Had she betrayed him? Had she gone to his father and given up everything?

No. No it was impossible. She might be very well capable of betraying him, but she would never abandon her mother in his hands. She knew that would mean Deborah's death as surely as the sun rose in the east.

He stopped pacing and sat on his bed, avoided putting his hands in his hair. Idleness was not for minds such as his. He had to keep occupied with something, focus his energies on a task, a problem, an equation, otherwise his mind prayed on itself. Already he was going over his plan again and again, finding imperfections, loopholes, mistakes. What if this, what if that…

He had been so engrossed in his thoughts, so out of reality that when she called for the first time, he had not heard her at all.

She had entered his hut as if stepping into a different reality. It was full of paintings of strange equations and models that he had probably made from scratch with his own hands. It was exactly as the childish part of her had pictured: the lab of the mad spotted him after she had taken the third step inside his living space. He was sitting there by one of those models, staring off into space, his eyes moving back and forth as if he was reading something that was right in front of him.

She swallowed with difficulty and was about to call him again when he noticed her.

"Bucket…"

There it was again, that name on his lips. Why did he speak to her with such aching familiarity, as if he had known her forever? It confused her every single time. And that note of relief in his voice, the way he looked at her, as if she was his salvation in the flesh.

… well, of his work, more like it.

So fast that it startled her, he planted himself into her personal space, reaching for his device.

"Did it work?" he asked, almost sounding anxious, but managing to hide it very well.

Skye started searching in her bag. "Yeah, I think so."

"For your sake – and your sweet mother's sake – I hope so." He said as he hovered above her. Her eyes snapped to his face, narrowing dangerously.

_Asshole!_

The word passed between them unspoken, but acknowledged by both parties so clearly that she might as well have said it out loud. She didn't say anything as she handed him what was his. Lucas sat himself down, turning his back to her, disregarding her completely and for a moment she wondered if he was arrogant or just plain stupid to turn his back to a potential enemy.

Fixing her eyes on his back, she could not miss now, in the light of day, what had been indistinguishable last night: the two cars on the back of his neck extended to a few inches near his jugular. A little closer and he would have bled to death…

Skye shuddered, unable to stop herself from thinking that having him be eaten alive by some carno in the jungle would have been better for Terra Nova _and_ for her, but still, she was not cruel enough, she simply didn't hate him enough to wish him such a horrifying death. At least not yet.

The calculations came to life before him, adjusting themselves in ways Skye didn't understand. But going from his awed expression, he did understand them, and they worked.

"Yes… I _knew_ you could do it." He murmured, more to himself than to her. "This is gonna work. I'm _so_ close, just a day or two."

Skye neared the specter of those indecipherable equations once he went about the room, gathering papers. She didn't understand any of the symbols or their meaning, but together they looked kinda beautiful. Like a symphony, like little constellations. Organized chaos that somehow made sense.

To him of course, those symbols spoke in an entirely different language. To her, they were just vaguely familiar.

"I've seen these before, by Snakehead Falls." She noted absentmindedly, as she looked on. She didn't notice how that stopped his movements.

"And did you tell my father?" he asked with a nonchalance that Skye recognized as fake at once. He was trying too hard to sound like the answer didn't matter, which was the surest way to tip her off that it did.

"No." She said as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. When he looked at her questioningly, she explained. "That place is off limits."

There was something in her answer that both irritated and amused him. He almost rolled his eyes. Typical: his father had banned everyone from the falls to keep his terranovans from glimpsing at even a small part of his son.

His father had always gone through great pains to hide his shortcomings.

"He needs to keep our issues in the family." He said as he passed by her. He missed the curiously glance she send his way, it was discrete enough to escape even his sharp notice.

He had no way of knowing the depths of her curiosity, and how it all centered around him for a million of reasons. One of them was that she had slept in what had surely been his bed for almost two years… and Taylor had not mentioned him once.

He was the dirtiest secret in Terra Nova.

"The two of us suffer from a Shakespearian relationship that borders on a Greek tragedy."

As he sat down, Skye slowly moved to his right, carefully keeping herself where he could not clearly see her face. She was gathering intel on him, learning him. It was a hardwired behavior now, but also, she wanted to know the most she could on this man: it was obvious he was Terra Nova's number one threat.

A look of half amusement half disbelief crossed her face. "You've always hated him this much?"

"No not always." He explained absentmindedly, one eye on the papers in his hands, the other on the calculations in front of him. He didn't find it difficult at all to tell her all this. In fact, this was the smoothest conversation he had had in years and it came so easy. The bond they shared made it easy to talk to her, to say things that he had never told anyone this freely.

"It started on 2148, august." He actually mumbled those words, as if they kept getting stuck between his teeth.

"What happened then?"

He turned to look at her in the face, to gauche her reaction, her expression. What he found there was interesting. She was really listening, cataloguing information like a computer.

"Ask him yourself." He responded curtly, returning to his work.

So _that_ was why she made such a good spy! That nonchalance, the real interest in her eyes, the chattiness and propensity to snoop that could only have gone unnoticed on a teenager. Lucas almost smiled. She was trying to drill him without him noticing!

She had quite the nerve, he had to admit.

"So, after the portal opens both ways, what then?" She asked, faking disinterest to perfection. But now that he knew her game, he was not about to be fooled.

"You'll see. Now out Bucket, I have work to do."

She eyed the back of his head with anger and resentment. He had either understood what she was trying to do or simply was a great jackass. Both were extremely possible and not necessarily mutually exclusive.

"Don't make me tell you twice." He warned and this time his voice vibrated with the danger of pushing this any further.

Skye slipped out as quietly as she had come in.

oOoOoOo

The depth of his satisfaction when he got back the results of his calculations shook him to the core. He had made it. He had finished, it was done. His work was finally complete.

He had felt the elation overflow in him, make him tremble from head to foot. His heart had trembled within his chest… and out of nowhere, he had wished she was there. Wished he could hold her, thank her, because she had made all this possible, because she had helped.

And he had held on to that feeling, held on to the lightheadedness it caused him, the way it made his heart _flutter_ – of all things. He was _that_ happy! And he wanted to share it with someone so very specific – with her.

Because of her absence, his violent happiness tasted strangely incomplete. He _needed_ her there, with him. Because the only reason he was holding the result of his finished work in his hands so soon was because of her. She had taken that final step, make this extraordinary sensation that was running through him possible. She had done it for him, finished his work, the last piece of the puzzle that would be the begging of Nathaniel Taylor's destruction.

The second he saw her as she so unwittingly wondered into his hut, that pet name of her had left his lips sounding like a '_thank you'_, a call for her only.

He had almost pounced on her then, before she even knew what was coming, unable to control his speed, uncaring really of her reaction. He had wanted her in his hands, the need had been corroding, the pull towards her like gravity: unstoppable.

With the grace of a man that had spent the last five years of his life in the wilderness, with the enthusiasm of a boy that had finally received the best gift of his life, he had grabbed her soft face, held on for dear life. The feel of her in his hands, so breakable, warm, so infinitely soft was almost as good as the gift she had given him.

He had felt her sharp intake of breath, her freezing in his hands. And he had also felt the way she relaxed when she realized his hold was nothing but gentle.

"It's solved it, it's done. Thank you Bucket." He whispered impossibly warmly, his forehead on hers, close enough to fill his nostrils with the sweet scent of her hair. She smelled of something sweet that made his mouth water, and the wilderness of the jungle.

He used that pet name of her with a naturality that frightened her. She couldn't know that he had been calling her that for years, until he was as familiar with it as he was with his own name.

Her pulse had skyrocketed under his finger at first but now it was settling. She had been started out of her bones by suddenly having him literally in her face. When his fingers grabbed the sides of her head, entwining in her hair, she thought he was going to attack her. Her blood froze in her veins. But then, when he had thanked her so breathlessly, so utterly sincerely, his intentions had been more clear. The more he looked at her, the wider his smile became, and this time it was a real smile, not a sneer, not a smirk.

There had been something so familiar about his gesture, it had taken her instinct only a fraction to recognize it and calm down. It was just like any other hug… only a lot more rough, wilder, maniacal - just like him really - but familiar none the less.

"You figured out how to make the portal go both ways?" She asked tentatively, looked at him quizzically. He nodded, his a secretive smile on his lips as if they were partners into a very important secret. From this close he could see every shade of the sky in her metallic-blue eyes. He looked down at her and his heart swelled with true warmth. The feeling shone right out of his eyes and he noticed her confusion as she took it in.

Lucas stood there and saw her take notice of his closeness as well.

She realized it slowly, as she initial shockwaves of having him almost tackle her - of seeing him look at her in that undecipherable manner that was almost like real affection - waned little by little…

Then she became aware of his closeness, of his body head that assaulted her like a wave. She became aware because he wasn't moving and he kept staring at her with clear happiness and exhilaration… and beneath all that, barely masked, there was intent – something Skye recognized but that never, not in a million years had expected to see in _him_.

He didn't seem to be bothered by how close he stood, by how intimate his touches seemed to be.

Probably, because to him they weren't.

But _she_ was massively confused by them, by him. Because this was Lucas Taylor and he was not a _boy_ by any means. He was something else entirely. Every single thing he did was confusing her, she didn't have time to recover from his last action when he didn't something else – like smile it _that_ way again – that pulled the rug from under her feel gloriously all over again.

He was like a code she needed to break in order to understand. It was irritating how freely he was behaving, when she had to twiz her brains just to try and figure him out.

The joy in him was so overwhelming that he smiled openly, fully, without holding nothing back. He almost laughed as he explained how everything would now change, gathering his things in the process.

Skye listened, frowning as he spoke and for the first time, she was stuck speechless by how… normal he could seem. And just like that, seeing him so happy, so exited, dispelled another of her childish fantasies: that Lucas Taylor was a high-strung, cold heartless bastard who was unable to feel anything remotely good and whose emotions varies only on the dark and creepy side of the spectrum.

Well, she had thought that, but now she knew she had been wrong, at least partially. His smile was that of a boy, his eyes sparkling so much that they startled her. Only now was she noticing he had eyes of such a mesmerizing shade of jade.

She was more than surprised when he cut her questions off, his voice exuberant.

"Why '_Bucket'_, I have to know." And he said it in such a way, smiling so openly that she believed him: he _had_ to know. He didn't ask, she realized. He only demanded.

Skye had learned by now that it was easier to give him what he wanted right away and spear herself the consequences of his insistence. She shared with him that embarrassing story of her childhood and was shocked when he chuckled at her as he put on his jacked.

"I like it." He said, eyes sparkling like jewels. "It suits you."

Had they been in any other circumstances, had he not been so clouded by his own obsessions, so brutal in his means to achieve his goals, so uncompromising and utterly closed to everything else… had he been a normal person back in Terra Nova, Skye was sure she would have found his smile disarming.

But this was not just any man. This was _Lucas Taylor_.

Of him she was just suspicious.

Which should have meant she was prepared for his next words, but it turned out she was not. They shook her to the core and she understood how much she had let her guard down.

"I don't understand why so many people want to be like their fathers. I only ever wanted to destroy mine." He had spoke so lightly, laughter making his voice dace, but the words were so heavy that they pushed against Skye's head, making it ache. She didn't address what he said of Taylor – something about him disappearing into the unknown again seemed a little more pressing.

She couldn't allow herself not mistake of not figuring out what he was up to.

"Where are you going?"

"To the portal. 2149 awaits. There's so much to do and not much time but… I wanted to tell you before I left: you shouldn't go back to Terra Nova."

And those were the words that broke the spell. If before she had entertained the thought of being something to salvage in him after all, not she sobered up to reality fast. Nothing good could come from those words.

"It's not safe for you there. They're coming."

Her frown deepened. "Who?"

He had told her about the army, about the imminent attack. He had held back nothing, he didn't see the point. His actions, his words, they were all calculated, measured - but trusting her was as natural as it was thought through and planned. And it shocked him, startled him to find out that he could trust someone after more than 10 years of being so thoroughly convince that he would never have faith in another human being ever again.

Now here he was, telling a Terranovan spy that her home was about to be destroyed, allowing her to have that knowledge, for he very simple reason that he did not want her harmed.

He cared…

That had been startling to him also.

She had been expendable once, but a long time had passed since he had entertained thoughts of unmasking her just to spite his father. She was not just a pawn anymore, she was important, he cared for her, and now, after she had finally finished his work for him, he felt her as much a part of him as his own limb. She had been there with him through it all, for three years she had been a constant presence, in the fringes of his mind. Constant even without knowing.

"… they will burn Terra Nova to the ground with or without the people in it." He said and for a moment Sky thought that she saw a hint of regret in his eyes, eyes that were not so guarded and empty anymore. But it was gone and later one, she would attribute that to her own fantasy, to her own wish of wanting to see something good in him, something to save, even where there was nothing.

Her voice shook. "Why… why would they do that?"

He shrugged. "Control the past, you control the future."

Skye took heart from the only thought that was able to console her. She grasped at it with all her strength.

"Taylor will never let that happen." She said, convinced that it was true.

It was a prayer more than a fact really, but it was the only thing Skye counted on with certainly. She knew Taylor would shed every single drop of blood in his system before he abandoned Terra Nova and its people.

But apparently, in the present company, it had been the wrongest thing to say.

"He's a _man_, not a god!" Lucas snapped so violently that the backlash of his temper made a shiver run down her spine. One moment was all it took for his darkness to swallow him whole again and leave nothing of that boyish smile she had seen for the past five minutes.

Lucas saw the way she bristled, how she froze and her eyes stayed wide as she considered how to tread around him, as if he was a minefield.

He had not snapped like that to anyone in years. He had almost lost his bearings, listening to her talk about his father, about the faith she had in his strength, in his infallibility. He had wanted for a moment to grab her and shake her until she changed idea.

Her belief in his father's power to keep her safe was what was going to get her killed. He knew that all too intimately, because that note of dead certainty in her voice had resembled too closely to the one that had been in his mother voice, hours before she died. It resembled the one he had held himself, until he had seen just how pathetic and empty that promise was.

Still, upon seeing how weary she was of him now, all over again, he gathered himself fast, even regretting his loss of temper a little. Lucas smiled again, only this time, after seeing what a real smile looked on his lips, Skye was able to tell that the fakeness of the one he was wearing now.

"But don't tell him that, you'll hurt his feelings." He added, as if it had all been a joke. Skye's breath shivered. This was no joke. His hatred for his father was so toxic that it burned even her, and she itched to step back from him, to run somewhere.

The quiet had been broken and the moment had slipped away… and Lucas regretted it. Because he could see form the alarm in her eyes that she didn't understand. He wanted to make her understand, to stop her from looking at him like that, as if she was a bird caught in a cage.

He stepped closer, trying to keep the violent emotions battling inside him off his face. The hatred and anger was not for her, they were for his father. His little sister didn't deserve the burn of it, not when she had already helped him so much.

He tried to get back to how happy had had been to finally be so close to his goal. To how happy he had been that she had happened to him. He watched as she looked away from him when he was close enough to smell her hair, her skin. She was unwilling to back away but she did try to keep him out by refusing to look him in the eye.

But she would have to, because she had to understand even a small part of what he was doing, of why her world was about to be torn apart.

"When the tanks roll in and my employers start stripping this place to nonexistence, the commander will know, _finally_, that I beat him."

Skye had decided that with Lucas the best tactic was the one used on rabid dogs: don't look him in the eye and maybe he won't bite you. But when the word '_tanks'_ came from his lips, her eyes snapped to his face, wanting to read the truth there, wanting to see if he was bluffing.

He was not.

He was at his most honest, at his most vulnerable even. The desire burned in him so strong that it made his eyes shine and Skye found herself recoiling from all that hatred in his eyes, as if it was hurting her.

The total of his emotions seemed to border on desperation…

"I've been waiting for this day since I was 14 years old… and I have you to thank."

His voice shook when he spoke, as if the emotions in him were getting the better of him. And yet he looked at her with such gentles that it made the words coming out of his mouth seem like they were being spoken by someone else. He looked so gentle, his eyes so warm… and yet he spoke of death, of destruction – with that look on his face…

Without warning, he moved one hand on her cheek, surprising her again, but not as much as the first time. Softly, he angled her face to the side. Skye couldn't help the way her heart tripped over itself. It had already been springing against her ribs but having him touch her always made her react badly: the shadow of the thought that he might break her neck with the same ease and calm he caressed her face, never left her head.

When she felt his lips on her cheek, so close to her ear that she shivered, giving her the softest kiss, she stopped breathing, hands fisted so hard that her nails were a breath from drawing blood. He lingered on her, his stubble scratching her, making her skin tingle as if it was not already on fire. She felt him breathe her in but couldn't imagine what was going on inside his head. She didn't even know what was going on in hers…

When he pulled back he looked at her with an expression of almost shyness, as if he, for a moment, regretted having gotten that close, especially when he saw that the shock of what he had told her had starting to overtake her and she couldn't take a full deep breath.

He left her there, struggling to breathe, drowning under the weight of her own guilt and misery. Only now did she understand how far her treachery had gone, how he had used her so well to deal the death blow to her own home and she had not even realized what she was doing.

_'…I have you to thank…"_

Those words kept pushing against her skull, making it hurt, making her chest impossible to expand. She felt the threat of guilt push her under, and the tears came unbidden.

After three years, she finally broke.

.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**4.**

Later on, he was not so surprised that she had betrayed him. He had seen the weight of her understanding when he had last talked to her. Had seen how she had struggled under that final straw he had put on her. He had done it purposefully, pushing her over the edge where she would have to finally make a choice.

He had been expecting it her betrayal, but hadn't wanted to stop her from making her own decision. Allowing her that freedom had been purposeful, a calculated risk.

If she stayed told his father about Lucas' intentions, Taylor would know she was the spy, and his dear Bucket would know what it meant to bear the never ending weight of Nathaniel Taylor's disappointment. She would strive for his forgiveness and would grow hopeless once she realized that his father was incapable of it.

_Or_, she may also chose _not_ to betray him, to remain silent. That would have been a much preferred option in Lucas' book, but he had known that the probabilities were thin. She loved her mother dearly and she had sacrificed three years of her life for that love… but she also loved Terra Nova, it was her home. He knew her fierceness, the strength of her: she would never allow him to burn that colony to the ground without a fight.

Still, whichever choice she made, Lucas won.

So he had allowed her a choice.

And she had betrayed him for his father.

What amused him most was the fact that she had managed to somehow get her mother out of there too. She had managed to do what Lucas hadn't been able to do and that somehow numbed the edge of his irritation.

Despite his careful planning, he had been angry at first that she had betrayed him, it was true. But he had understood. She was loyal, she was true to her beliefs. He liked that about her. It made her real, even though she was such a skilled liar.

So when he saw her again, he had not hesitated, not felt any trace of resentment. He had almost jumped out of his chair to go to her when the soldier had brought her to his door. The strength of his relief upon seeing her walking with her own legs had been immense, so much that he had only realized how worried he had been when he saw she was well again.

She had been found under the ruble of one of the buildings, a breath away from being crushed to death by the cement, a head wound that had oozed blood around her wild hair like a hellish halo. She had been unconscious for three days, and it had taken her almost another three to be able to walk again without being lightheaded.

And now she was right there, within his range of sight, and Lucas couldn't help but spring from his seat and walk to her briskly. His own enthusiasm leveled him again, but he accepted it, embraced it. As he embraced everything that shifted inside him whenever she looked at him with those intense eyes.

He had cut to the chaise – mostly because he didn't like the way she looked at him with such apprehension. She feared retaliation for her betrayal, but surprisingly, she was also collected, controlled. The look on her still pale face was resolute.

Lucas couldn't help a smile. Years as a spy, growing up in the middle of mind games, having her life depending on swift reaction and reading people, all that had shaped her into a very quick, instinctual creature. She was good at reading people's intentions so she had understood him from the very first moment he had stepped in front of her.

He was not there to hand out punishment.

At least that was the appearance his relaxed manner and casual smile said. But Skye knew that he could appear just as comfortable making death threats, so she was unsure what to believe.

"You betrayed me to my father." He stated simply.

She responded just as lightly, even a little tauntingly. "Yeah, I kinda did, didn't I."

It amused him, her speed, her confidence. He made his closeness known, standing barely a breath from her and saw how despite her coolness, his being there in her personal space disturbed her – it was in the way she frowned every so lightly, even though the rest of her face remained smooth. She read his intention - no doubt he was not the first to give off these signals in her direction – but she was confused. Because he was not like any other that had tried to lure her in, to take her over.

He was unlike anyone she had ever met and Lucas was conscious of that – and of the fact that he could make it work to his advantage.

But there was plenty of distance to close, Lucas was aware of that also. He was the enemy, for one, and that made her doubt him. He was the man who had threatened the life of her mother, and that made her cold to him. He was the destroyer of her home, thus alienating her to the very core.

She didn't know, off the bat, how to counteract this closeness, the attention he showed her and he found amusement in confusing her. Scrambling her brains was the only way to get her to think about him in terms that did not involve fear or dread. He knew that she doubted every word that came out of his mouth, every move he made. She only knew him as the manipulator, as the one who played the mind games and pulled all the strings.

He decided this was a good moment to share that bond that they had, to make her understand part of what tied them together, a small part that would help her realize this was real, that it was true.

"I could punish you, make an example out of you… but I won't. Because I understand." At this point, her eyes snapped to is, not with doubt, but full of questions, curiosity.

"He is like a father to you, isn't he." He stated softly.

Her security faltered then, because she had no longer been able to tell where this conversation was going and how to draw a line between his manipulations and his truths. Her brows had drawn together a little, confused.

"Yes, you could say that." She had answered tentatively. Was she afraid of giving anything away?

She didn't know that he already knew everything.

He smiled at her words, adding to her confusion.

"Do you know what that makes us?" He hinted, lowering his voice, leaning a little closer - which seemed impossible, seeing that he was already standing so very close - unequivocal in his intention, ecstatic that she hadn't pulled away or flinched at his presence, not even for a moment.

"Brother and sister." He whispered, looking at her in the eye.

Her brows furrowed further, her eyes showing a hint of the emotions she was not voicing: she was conflicted, disturbed. Her reaction was a tornado of feelings, and none of them clear because they kept mixing in her eyes too fast for him to track.

"And how could I ever hurt my sister?" He stated in a low voice - his words saying something, his tone hinting something else. When he reached to tuck a strand of her wild hair behind her ear, she didn't move, but eyed him suspiciously, without knowing what to make of him at all. He let himself feel the silkiness of her hair between his fingers, and purposefully touched her ear, skimmed his fingertips over that so impossibly soft part of her neck that was directly under her ear.

And when his eyes bore down into hers, she was the one to look away first. She denied him her eyes, choosing to look down and hide her emotions under her lids and long lashes. Her jaw was tightly clenched, her lips pursed.

She didn't like being touched without her permission.

Always so inscrutable, Lucas noted with a smirk.

He enjoyed that moment, soaked it in, before shifting into the other thing that needed to be said. His stared had became icy then and her focus instantly sharpened, picking up on his change of mood with a swiftness characteristic of her.

At that point his closeness had not been about intimacy anymore, it was about threat.

"Don't betray me again." He warned, and felt her stiffen. With a small nod, he signaled the soldier to take her away. "Next time I won't be so forgiving."

She had looked up at him surprised, not at his words, but at his lack of action.

She had not believed him when he had told her that he wouldn't hurt her. She had thought this was all a ploy, a way to manipulate her, taunt her before the inevitable retribution came. The genuine surprise in her eyes was gratifying when she finally understood that he meant to do no such thing, not now not ever.

He had meant every single word. It was time she got used to that.

He could never do her any real harm, he realized the extend of this truth just now, as she was dragged away and looked at him with surprise ad disbelief: He cared about her too much to actually hurt her.

Skye didn't even have time to fully process what he'd told her when the soldier was dragging her away. She kept looking back to him, as if wanting to understand, wanting to ask. The confusion looked good on her, he thought. Lucas had wanted to do just that, to keep her wondering, to throw off balance every scheme she fit him in.

He wanted her to think about him. Ultimately, to get her to see him differently.

oOoOoOo

She had left with that soldier, didn't resist the hold he had on her upper arm as he escorted her into a safe distance from the Commander's base. Then he left her there in the middle of the street and got back to his duty without a word.

Skye stood there, feeling lost as she looked around and took in the destruction around her. She could hardly bear to look at the people of Terra Nova – her people – as they tried to find some semblance of their previous lives under the occupation. There were soldiers everywhere, people looked over their shoulders every five steps, their faces etched deep with worry and suffering. 26 fresh graves were still on their minds, the grief aching in all their hearts.

Every time Skye closed her eyes she saw the bursts of fire and cannons razing her home to the ground, still heard the commotion of the battle, the screams of people caught in the rubble. She could still see it all as if it was happening before her eyes – it wasn't that hard since the remnants of the battle were still all around her, the destruction of Terra Nova like an open wound even though it had been almost ten days since that night.

That night…

Skye couldn't close her eyes and hope to sleep without having nightmares about the night of the battle.

Wash hadn't wanted civilian population anywhere near the line of fire, but Skye had not been able to keep to the undergrounds when all this was her fault. She couldn't even breathe in there, the guilt was strangling her.

Skye knew that she could end up killing herself out there, but the thought was to her more bearable than hiding and waiting for it all to pass. She recognized that her desperation and guilt were clouding her judgment, but she didn't care. She still had stolen the Taylor's old rifle and gotten up to the main Commands' roof… and put her training to good use. She had laid on the ground, fixed the rifle, regulated her breathing… and started shooting without giving herself the chance to think about it.

Her targets had been the first line of attackers, those that were throwing the bombs and trying to break through the fence. She got one on the head. Another on the neck, the other was lucky, got a bullet to the chest.

Not one shot went astray and she was the reason eleven Phoenix soldiers fell down. She didn't take the time to think that she probably killed eight of them. She couldn't allow herself that kind of breathing space, and frankly she thought she deserved to feel like shit over it. This was all her fault, she had to take some fucking responsibility and make herself useful for once.

She was about to fire again when a great boom shook the air. It sounded like a thunderclap, except much more ominous and a lot closer than it should be. Skye turned, eyes wide and hear in her throat… and what she saw stopped her hear tin her chest.

Cannons!

_Oh god…_

They were going to blow Terra Nova apart piece by piece, just like Lucas Taylor had said…

The first explosion came from her right, and Skye felt the ground beneath her shake with its force, the shockwave blasting hot against her face. That's when she realized - they were targeting the buildings, those bastards…

Sky remembered a blur of movements as she had tried to get down from the roof, tried to go to Wash and tell her that she had to surrender, or the whole colony would burn…But then there had been a huge explosion and she had flown off her feet, hit something and the whole world had gone black.

She still had the stitches on the back of her head and bruises on almost every single inch of her back to prove it.

And now, after all _that_, after she – along with countless others – had been pulled out of the rubles of their very homes – the maniac, the _lunatic_ that was behind all of that violence, who had singlehandedly caused the deaths of 26 of her people… _That_ man considered her his – even as she thought it, Skye stumbled over the very notion – his _sister_.

Looking into his face, seeing into those eyes that looked down at her so tenderly – it made it all seem so fucking surreal! Skye didn't believe it for a _second_. Irrational anger burned in her veins, sealing her thoughts in place.

That man was incapable of feeling _any_ kind of affection.

She had made the mistake of believing him to possess some shade of normal, believed him capable of some kind of warmer emotions… and when she had stepped into that trap, he had ended up telling her - with a boyish, soft smile on his lips - how he was going to destroy the only home she had ever known, even at the cost of killing everyone in his path, for the sake of his personal vendetta.

_That_ kind of man, feeling a sisterly affection – _any_ kind of affection - for her?

Skye shuddered, rejecting the idea with all of herself. It was not just impossible, in was incompatible with the very core of him. His brutality repelled her, she scorned his selfishness, his single mindedness on extracting revenge on his father without caring who got hurt in the process. He was ready to sacrifice everything but himself to get what he wanted and he called that justice.

Skye called it hypocrisy.

And she _hated_ him for it.

oOoOoOo

He had been full of pent up rage as he wanted for her at the bar. His victory had waned, his father kept sabotaging him and someone on the inside was helping. He was 94.5% sure that it was Shannon, but the cop was feigning disability and Lucas had no way of making him own up to his very good health that would not lead to alienating the civil population of the colony any more than he already had. Taking the colony had been much more difficult than it should have been and the number of the dead had been considerable before his father's second in command considered surrender.

But as soon as the cannons came out and it was made clear that with or without the people inside, Terra Nova would either burn or surrender, everything had come to a swift end.

After that, things had been pretty standard.

Except for the fact that his father had escaped, slipped right through his fingers and kept attacking his convoys, stealing his materials and damaging resources. Every time Lucas thought about it he could feel the rage in him bubble up and make its way into a scream. The two of them had been playing this game of cat and mouse in the jungle for almost two weeks now and to Lucas' great frustration it was a lot like the games of chess they used to play together when they didn't yet hate each other quit this much as now. It was about planning and anticipating each others moves, but no matter what Lucas did, he seemed to be on the losing side.

Because he had a leak. Somehow, Shannon had figured out a way to communicate with his father and no matter how much Lucas had him watched and followed, he couldn't seem to be figuring out either the way of communication, or how to trace the leak back to his father's location.

Time had come to go about this in more traditional methods...

Had it been up to Lucas' temper, he would have shot Jim Shannon dead a long time ago. But this game had rules. He couldn't go about making mayhem. He didn't want chaos. He wanted regulated destruction and most of all, he wanted his father on his knees begging for mercy. Without Jim Shannon, there was no hope of learning Nathaniel Taylor's whereabouts or his plans.

It was getting frustrating, gritting on his nerves and damaging his temper. Lucas didn't want _games_, he wanted blood. He wanted to strip his father off everything he had ever loved and watch the look in the old man's face as he did so – repaying him in kind.

He wanted his revenge…

He had been running towards this moment for so long that now that it seemed so close, it was starting to become an obsession, a fixed idea that would drive him to the edges of his sanity if he did not fulfill it soon.

His victory seemed so within reach, and yet he could not seem to get a grip on it... it was almost driving him to madness!

And to put the icing on all this fantastic shitcake, apart from all _that_, there was yet another reasons for Lucas' frustration – something that caused him impatience this time.

She wouldn't come to him.

_Why_ wouldn't she come to him willingly, talk to him? He could feel her eyes on him, when he walked around the colony. Not judgmental or full of hate, like the others. Questioning, quiet, calculating. She thought about him, had countless questions, but she _wouldn't come to him_ and he was losing patience.

A part of her hesitation could be attributed to what he represented to her community: he was the one invading their peace, she didn't want to be seen fraternizing with the enemy. Lucas almost rolled his eyes.

Fine then! He was not a patient man, if she wouldn't come, he would _make_ her.

And promptly, she was at the stairs with her military 'escort' guiding her. He stood up fast, smiling, because at the sight of her, at the prospect of talking to her again, most other things faded in the background.

"Ah, there she is. My beautiful sister." He greeted, and she had the defiance to almost roll her eyes at him. The chuckle bubbled to easily in his chest at that. He was glad she was on longer weary of him. Maybe, he wondered, she had also taken to heart his words, that they were like brother and sister, because he could see that her expression had changed whenever she regarded him.

She looked at him differently now. With purpose. There was caution, because she never forgot how dangerous he could be, but there was also a strange air of relaxation that she could manage around him, as if being there, in front of him was as easy and natural to her as everything else.

He liked that a lot. It was a step in the right direction.

In _his_ direction.

He pulled the chair for her, inviting her to sit, and send the Shannon boy away with delight.

"Do you mind? Three's a crowd." He said smirking right on the boy's face. Provoking him earlier about his lost ones had proved useless, so Lucas would try a different tactic. The Shannons were known for their temper and stupidity when making rush actions. It wouldn't be difficult to get a raise out of this boy.

After that, everything else would unravel on its own.

That plan's importance was of course in par with having his little sister here. Once again, she was the vehicle of his plan. Without her all this would have been much less natural.

And of course, the pleasure in having her look at him directly, as she was doing now, was unmatched really, by anything. Not even the satisfaction of luring the spy out would be able to compare to how she made him feel sometimes. So _alive_, buzzing with a thousand emotions that he could barely control, but that he enjoyed - that he embraces easily, because it was her.

They talked. _She_ talked. Spoke to him about what he knew had happened. His father had denied her what she had most needed: his forgiveness. And he knew that his father would keep denying her, until she rose against him and rejected him, just like Lucas himself had done.

But his little sister loved so deeply, her rebelling would take a little push or two to get there.

He watched the comprehension sink in her as he spoke about their father. Watched as understanding lit up her eyes. She didn't refuse his words, didn't brad them as lies just because they clashed with the idea she had of his father. She accepted his truths for what she thought they were: _his_ truths. Half of the story.

But by doing that and nothing else, she did more than everyone else had done before her: in her quiet way, she strove to understand, to reach him without trying to rationalize his feelings or judge them. She didn't reject him, she embraced him. Lucas saw the empathy in her eyes, sprung of her own hurts from the very same man had had caused his. She knew what it meant to feel the burden of his father's disappointment.

That look she was giving him would have been impossible to tolerate had it come from anyone else. But because it was her, he knew it was not pity. She had suffered, she still suffered from the same burden – coming from her, that look was not about pity, it was about acceptance.

He didn't know what had driven him to touch her then.

It had not been premeditated, not _that_ particular action. Reaching out and caressing her face had been something that he had done before he ever realized fully what he was doing, which was a first for him. But the mere memory of how soft she was, of how good she smelled, it had made him move, made him reach for her, made him _ache_ to have her skin under his fingers again.

Her eyes were so intense, they looked like blue flame.

"You are so beautiful…" Spoken in a whisper, like a prayer. Because she was, because he meant it. Behind those words there was so much more, a depth of desire that a sixteen year old Skye Tate couldn't understand, even after what she had been through in her life. She had never had this kind of explicit attention from a man like him and for the briefest second, it froze her, stopped her reaction.

"Please don't do that."

She had not flinched away, she had simply moved. It had been her choice, to refuse his touch.

And that had been irritating at first. He didn't like to be denied. He took what he wanted when he wanted. But in other circumstances he would have left her alone. He would have spun his game until she was the one that would come begging to be touched… but not this time.

Because her being there served another purpose besides his own entertainment.

In that moment, his persistence had had other motives. He was not as petty as to hurt her for the sake of getting back at her for a momentary rejection. Lucas was holding on to that tiny hand of hers because he needed a specific reaction from a very specific person that was standing right behind him. He had known that this point would come, he had planned it.

But he didn't enjoy the look of alarm in her eyes, the anger, the fear then, when he wouldn't let go. He didn't enjoy the flinch of pain when he held on a little too tightly - It had to be convincing after all.

And he certainly didn't enjoy the metal plate that slammed against the side of his face a moment later.

Ah… right on time then.

But the blows kept coming and Lucas wasn't recuperating fast enough. Mostly because he was distracted by the sharp intake of breath that came from her. Sidetracked by the absolutely distraught look on her face as he got hit over and over again.

Ah, so she _did_ care… despite herself, she cared for him in some form or shape. He could almost laugh in that moment - which would have confirmed once and for all the rumors about his madness.

Someone pulled the boy off him, and Lucas was finally able to get up off the floor. His satisfaction was visible, he didn't try to hide it.

"Hold him up." He told the soldiers. They did. And then, just as he pulled his fist back, she saw it coming and screaming his name.

Sorry Bucked, not this time.

He enjoyed hitting Josh Shannon. Because the kid irritated him, because he was probably part of the operation that leaked information out of Terra Nova to his father, because the stronger he hit this boy, bigger were the chances that his cop father would drop the act of being incapacitated and actually come to his son's rescue.

But also, because this useless kid had felt he had the _right_ to come to her rescue, and save her from him.

The notion was as ridiculous, as it was enraging. Thinking of this kid having any claim on Skye made him hit harder, made his anger stronger. And what fueled him more was her reaction to the tables turning. She had screamed his name when he had been about to hit the Shannon boy, as if the notion alone threw her over the edge of that calmness that she usually prized so highly. The way she was so protective of his particular boy made Lucas irrationally furious to the point of murder.

But then the _real_ source of their problems showed up, in top physical shape, as Lucas has suspected Jim Shannon was, and almost demolished half the bar.

Shannon had come to the rescue of his son, and in the process he had blown his cover.

Now Lucas had his spy.

And maybe just as importantly – he had leverage.

Because - and loathed admitting this, but it didn't make it any less true - Lucas knew that with the Shannon boy in the brig next to his father, waiting for some exemplary form of punishment, it would be just a matter of time before she came knocking on his door.

**TBC**

AN: _As you might have gathered, the next one is about that missing moment when Skye gets him to spear Josh's life. That's a really famous moment in this fandom, so i hope I'll be able to do it justice (Im sooo nervous o_O)  
Please tell me whether or not I am making the characters sound like themselves. Im especially concenrned aobut Lucas - i dont want him coming off as too sugary. I really want to write him as dangerous and manipulating as he comes off in the show. Please let me know what you think._


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: this chapter is split into two parts for length reasons, to make it easier to read (thank you to _miaparker_ for the suggestion and the wonderful review. In fact, thank you to __**ALL**__ my reviewers for your day-making words and support.) However, there is complete continuation from this one to the next, since it was written as a whole. _

**5. Part 1**

But, it turned out that he was wrong.

Lucas had expected her to come to him, but certainly not in that fashion.

He had expected her to be hesitating, pleading, ready to offer him a deal. Trade something she suspected he wanted in exchange for the life of a boy she cared about (his blood still boiled just thinking about it).

But she did no such thing.

She strode in his office as if she owned it, ignoring the soldiers guarding his door, probably because she knew that they had strict orders never to touch her in any way. He raised an eyebrow when she slammed the door shut and stared him down, arms crossed over her chest, anger burning in her so bright that it seemed a lamp had come on inside her pretty head.

"You provoked him." She hissed out between tightly clenched teeth, not the barest trace of doubt in her voice. And he had to smile, because she had seen right through him – for the most part at least.

"You wanted him to attack you. You hurt me on purpose, because you wanted to get to him."

Lucas didn't answer at first, probably because he was trying to gauche why exactly she was this upset: because he had beaten the shit out of her precious Josh Shannon, or because he had used her to get to the boy.

In truth Skye was very much pissed about both. She was almost frantic with anxiety about Josh but she was hiding that under her initial anger over being manipulated by Lucas – Who, by the way, had just proved to her – again - that he was very much capable of anything to get his way.

His ruthlessness frightened and alienated her, but most importantly, it alerted her to his true nature: no matter how many glimpses he might give her of that soul that he had buried so deep, the fact still remained that Lucas was not to be trusted, because he was bent on achieving a goal that meant the destruction of everything Skye held dear.

Skye didn't know how to feel about the fact that whenever Lucas Taylor was around her, he seemed to be different. All his talk about her being his 'little sister', the kindness that sometimes made its way in his eyes when he looked at her. He appeared to change in her presence, that maniacal edge of his softening, quieting down by a fraction, his countenance smothered a little - and the worst of it was that Skye had no idea of it was real, or if she was being masterfully manipulated.

Seemed awfully real to her, and that was what scared her!

Not even Lucas would be able to fake that kind of smile: hesitating, maybe even a little shy - or maybe it seemed that way just because he was so out of practice. The warmth in his eyes had not been a lie, but Skye didn't know if it really meant anything else. Just because he cared about her in some twisted way, it didn't mean he would be unable to hurt her. Just because he was able of feeling some kind of affection didn't mean that now he would be a changed man. Whatever feelings he had for her didn't seem to soften his ruthlessness at all. He was still as dangerous as before – the sole difference was that in his mind he now had a spotlight that shone directly over Skye.

In no language in the universe was that ever a good thing…

Except... Well, despite everything, despite her fear, her confusion and hesitation – even despite her own sense and sensibility - Skye knew that there was one thing she couldn't lie to herself about: she wanted to understand him, to find a way to reach him. After all, Lucas was the son of the man she loved like a second father, a man she respected and cared for a great deal. It was horrifying to her that Lucas could hate his father so violently when she loved the same man so dearly. And how could he ever hate his own father? What had driven him to that? Skye couldn't comprehend it. To her the memory of her father was sacred, her father had always been the sun in her life. The mere idea of having her father was sacrilege, it was like death.

But Lucas... the hatred inside him was real and it burned bright, it moved him and was part of him, of all the darkest shadows of his personality. That blind hatred of his, directed at a man she so cared for, whorepresented everything good she had ever known. The solid dichotomy of it all made Lucas and his reasons a blank in her mind that could not help but wanting to be filled… it was an instinctual pull, something Skye wasn't entirely able to rationalize.

In the end, Lucas was right: No matter how twisted it sounded when he said it, Skye really did feel a connection to him because of 'their father' - as he so morbidly put it. And she also knew that despite every ridges and pit of darkness in Lucas, there was also some part of him, somewhere inside that contorted soul that wanted to be understood, soothed... forgiven.

Why else would he confide in her?

Skye was now aware that something terrible had happened between those two men, torn them apart.

'…for being born, my dear sister. For the unpardonable mistake of being born…"

Those words had echoed around her heart, and she had struggled with the depths of the sadness that she had seen in his eyes.

Which brought her right back to how pissed off she was now, because just when she had felt him so near, so reachable, everything had been shot straight to hell.

She had been the first to ruin it, with her idiotic response to his touch. Even now that she thought about it, Skye cursed herself. Why hadn't she controlled herself? Why hadn't she been able to be as flirty and casual as she had been other times when she had used her charms to get information? It wasn't like she was a newby at this game! She had been playing it for three god damn years! But when she had needed her skills most, she had failed herself like any wildly stupid little girl.

And Josh had been even stupider for jumping in her defense like that. It warmed her heart that he cared, it really did - but they were at war. Josh had to think before acting, otherwise they would never get Terra Nova back!

And with Mister Shannon in the brig, the most important contact to the Commander had been cut…

Lucas had gotten what he wanted. He had a spy to interrogate and a very efficient way to break him: his son to torture right in front of Jim Shannon's eyes. Skye knew that Lucas would not relent until he got the Commanders whereabouts and mister Shannon would be forced to give them, or he would have to watch his son die...

Skye's heart shuddered, her blood freezing in her veins. She didn't doubt the lengths Lucas would be able to go to get what he wanted. She had seen and felt the brunt of his obsession and was not about to underestimate Lucas' dedication to his father's destruction.

Which was why she was here now, pretending to be more angry than she was afraid. Pretending to play into this game of 'brother and sister' Lucas liked to put up around her, pretending that she took everything he said and did at face value, trying to take advantage of the freedom he gave her – trying, in short, to trap him with his own web.

She just hoped she could pull it off convincingly enough.

Her only chance was to never lose sight of the small truths inside this lie: that she really did feel empathy for the part of Lucas that was still able to feel something. That she cared, that she wanted to understand. And if all else failed, that she would rather die, literally, than allow Josh to die for a mistake she made…

"Hurt you? I wouldn't say I hurt you Bucket, I promised I wouldn't, remember?" Lucas said quietly, leaning against his father's desk, relaxed and with a small smile on his lips.

Her temper amused him - so did her brashness.

Her eyes narrowed on him.

"Oh, so it's alright to try to break my fingers as long as it serves your purpose?" She bit out harshly, staring him down. His smile only widened. In a few strides he was in front of her, with his usual swiftness, as imposing as ever… but strangely not threatening. Probably because he was looking at her with that tenderness that looked so out of place in him, making her feel as if he was trying to snatch her soul through her eyes.

Gently, but in a motion that denied resistance, he pried her hand loose (a nice feat since she had locked her arms over her chest so tightly that it seemed she would never unlock them again) and – with his eyes never leaving hers, as if he was trying to burn a hole into her brain – he took her knuckles to his lips and so very gently kissed them, his thumb caressing where his lips had pressed, as if to soothe.

He smiled at her slowly, softly, as if saying 'there, all better.'

Skye didn't realize that she had stopped breathing. She only noticed when she took a deep breath because her head was starting to go fuzzy - and found her lungs being filled with the smell of him: of his soap, sweat, blood and burned wood - of the violence that trailed behind him like a shadow. Her heart picked up, as if she was standing in front of an abyss, tipping dangerously over the edge, the thrill of the eminent fall making her lightheaded.

The tenderness of his actions was so at odds with the rest of him, that it made her lose touch with all of her thoughts and reasoning from before, made her heartbeats stutter. She had thought she was ready for this, that she could face him... but maybe she was not, if fear invaded her so easily whenever he got too close.

"I'm sorry about your hand." He said softly, looking at her in the eye in such a way that her first reaction was to believe him. How could he look so utterly open and warm and be so cruel and heartless at the same time?

"Would you have don't the same thing if Josh hadn't been there?" She asked, this time with less bite in her voice. She didn't want to sound accusing, she wanted to bait him.

His eyes sobered fast, the pools of iridescent green darkening as if a veil had been drawn and hidden them.

"No." he answered firmly and let go of her hand. There was a flicker of anger in his eyes then, but it was gone as soon as it came. Now as he looked at her he seemed he was colder, detached, even though he was still as concentrated on her as he ever was.

"Are you going to kill him?" Skye asked again, and this time her tone was hard, seeing that she didn't feel the need to pretend anymore. She had understood from his eyes that he knew what she was doing.

Lucas leaned on the edge of the desk, almost sitting on it as he crossed his arms over his chest and looking at her as if trying to evaluate her. Skye didn't waver - she didn't feel the tinkle of threat just yet.

"Which one?" Lucas teased, the smile in his lips was as fake as his eyes were grave, the intelligence behind them sparkling dangerously.

Under her withering stare, he faked sudden recollection. "Oh right, the Shannon kid."

His smile stretched open a bit more and Skye found herself thinking that in any other situation, his laid back attitude and easy smile would have made for a pleasant conversation. But the fact that he managed to sound so at ease while playing with a person's life frightened her more than anything. This was what she most feared of him: his incredible ease with violence, his familiarity with its limits, with its practice. The way he could be so nonchalant about causing someone pain or even death.

"I confess I am tempted Bucket, I really am. That boy has been breaking my balls for a while now, it's time he – and everyone else who thinks they can touch me and get away with it – learned a very important lesson." And this time his anger took over his tone, giving her a glimpse of the tempest that was raging inside him, the one he could keep hidden so very well it almost never showed.

"You're not doing this because he hit you – you manipulated him into doing that." She stated, almost looking for confirmation. She watched the little smile play on his lips and knew that that was as good a affirmation as would ever come from him.

Then she decided to go all out with it. After all, there was no use in playing stupid, she already knew what he wanted to do and was here to try to stop him.

"You don't need to hurt Josh to break his father." Skye pointed out cautiously, tone carefully blank and she realized by the way he smiled at her, as if he was oh-so-proud of her quick mind, that she had hit the nail right on the head and guessed is plan exactly.

"See, I'm not so sure. Jim Shannon has the brains and stubbornness of a mule." Lucas pointed out, the insult dealt with humor, as if he was laughing on the inside.

Her eyes burned like blue flame, dancing with emotions, so much that she seemed like she could catch fire any instant. "Everyone has a breaking point. I'm sure you're very much capable of finding out Jim Shannon's."

The disdain in her tone was obvious, she didn't even try to hide it.

His smirk was taunting. "I appreciate the note of confidence Bucket, but unlike your boyfriend, I actually like using my brain, and right now it's telling me that the most efficient choice in both time and effort is to zap Josh Shannon around until either his father tells me what I want to know or the kid's brain liquefies out of his ears."

He had used those words deliberately, to see what her reaction would be... and he got one hell of a reaction. She paled, her breathing stooped for a moment and her eyes went wide, filling with fear even as she tried to keep herself in check. Then a beat passed and he saw the panic subdue. This time it was anger that burned bright in her eyes and she took courage from it.

"Sons shouldn't pay for their father's sins. I thought you of all people would understand that." She hissed between clenched teeth, her hands in fists almost shaking at her sides.

Lucas hadn't expected those words, to be honest. They caught him by surprise, ringing true in a way he didn't like, as if she had turned his reasoning against him without even knowing the full extent of it. He felt that cold slithering voice inside him twist and whisper in his ear, felt the anger in him burn and twist, pushing him to let his temper loose, to explode and make her regret ever trying to manipulate him.

But he didn't. The push of his rage was not as demanding as usual, it didn't overcome him as it usually did, it didn't cloud his judgment. He didn't want to hurt her – and the need rested on a very basic level of his consciousness, so much that now he was withholding reactions that he had never before bothered to control.

_But,_ if his dear Bucket thought that she could play him in any way, she was about to be sorely mistaken. If she wanted anything from him, she'd have to go through the pains of being sincere and straightforward.

The smile that pulled at his lips this time made him look like a predator.

He took one step towards her, stalking his prey with calm, and this time, the alarm did go off inside her head, because this time there really was something to be afraid of. Skye's anger wavered, her feet faltered backwards when he came close and didn't stop - coming even closer.

One hand snapping forward to tangle in her messy hair stopped her from going anywhere after that.

Fisting the curls at the base of her neck in his hand, he angled her head up, so that she would look at him in the eye. Much like the last time he had touched her like that, he brought his forehead down on hers, but this time his eyes were so sharp they would cut through glass.

"You are a very smart girl, aren't you Bucket?" He spoke softly. There was nothing soft about the way he was looking at her though, his eyes nothing but a promise of violence as the anger made them gleam; but the tips of his fingers were like a caress when they skimmed her throat, traced her collarbone. The active threat in his eyes, in the hand that was pulling at her hair was in stark contrast with the soft touch of his other hand – it felt like being touched with both fire and ice. Both equally frightening and painful.

Skye felt herself shiver, fear plundering her gut, cold and sharp like a didn't say anything. She was even afraid to breathe.

"I know you are. So please, don't provoke me. I meant it when I said that I didn't want to hurt you."

By this time his voice and countenance had softened, his grip on her hair had loosened, and his fingers were skimming the back of her neck gently, caressing... burning. She let out a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding and it fanned right on his face, the warmth of it coming back to her. That was how she became aware of how close they were really standing – now that it wasn't about intimidating her anymore, it seemed like a whole new position to be in.

But Skye couldn't see it that way yet. The stench of his threat was still all over her.

Except, now that he was searching her eyes as if he had lost his soul in there and wanted it back, now that she could breathe again and his face didn't seem made out of stone – Skye wasn't sure all of it had been a threat.

One small part of it has sounded remarkably like a plea.

The duality of him had never been more clear to her than in that moment.

"You know he doesn't deserve to die just so you can get what you want the easy way." She breathed out, acutely aware of his hand on the back of her neck. The heat of him was burning through her clothes, he was that close…and for some reason, it felt as though he were even closer…

"Do I really?" His words were like a afterthought, as if he hadn't paid attention to what he was saying at all, because in that moment he looked very much distracted. He was looking at her with utter fascination, as if she was the most interesting thing to ever capture his attention. His stare was fixated, heated, as powerful as it was passionate, the intensity in his eyes stunned her speechless, motionless. Skye felt as if she couldn't take a full deep breath, the air was suddenly too thin to sustain her.

It was impossible to miss it when his eyes moved from her own to her lips and stayed there for a few seconds, how his lips parted ever so slightly, as if in his mind he was already on her mouth, tasting. Skye felt her breath shake, struggling to keep up with his shifts of mood, unable to counteract him, to meet him. Unable to do anything but be the immovable object against which the force of him slammed over and over.

The way he looked at her was frightening, as if he was going to eat her alive like the monsters in the fairytales she used to read as a child. And yet, his hold was so gentle, his fingers brushing her skin softly as he cupped her cheek, a thumb caressing the skin under her ear, making her want to squirm.

What did he want really? Why was he doing this? Was it possible that even someone like him could care for someone else? Sky felt her heart tighten in her chest. Maybe there was an ounce of truth even in his lies… The realization made Skye hold her ground more firmly. If it was so, it was better for her: she would have something real to exploit.

She looked at him expectantly then, strung up and ready for the impact as if he was going to hit her, ready to let him take what he wanted.

But the next moment when he looked into her eyes, he frowned and leaned back a fraction, as if he had read her thoughts as clearly as if they had been written on her forehead. His smile was rueful as he withdrew his touch and took a step back. She was left standing there, confused, feeling weak because of the rush of adrenaline that was coursing through her veins still.

Skye's heart stuttered. Where had she done wrong? What had given her away?

"I won't hurt the boy... much." He said coldly, his back to her as he went to the table at the side of the room and picked up a piece of cloth, dabbing it in alcohol and starting to scrub carelessly at his face.

"You can go now." He then added with the same finality that he had dismissed her from his hut in the Sixer camp, weeks ago.

The relief that flooded her veins almost made her weak in the knees. Lucas' measure of 'en_ough hurt_' was debatable, and there was no telling when he would stop – or if – once he started, but Skye allowed herself a small moment of comfort: a hurt Josh was a lot better than a dead Josh.

And then she caught herself, realizing the full idiotic extent of her own reasoning: she was trusting Lucas to keep his word! Why? If there was one thing she was sure of was that Lucas Taylor was not to be trusted. And yet, here she was, feeling relief, as if him promising her that he wouldn't hurt Josh much was somehow progress.

She had to wake up here, and smell the smoke that he was circling her with, the toxic poison that was filling her thoughts. His tactic of lulling her into a false sense of security was working and she hadn't even realized it. Despite herself, she caught herself believing him more often than she was comfortable with.

That was a mistake Skye couldn't afford to make.

She watched him flinch as he carelessly swiped the cloth over his cheek, and couldn't help but roll her eyes.

Men!

Skye pushed her nervousness deep down and tried to act her normal self. Unceremoniously, she stepped towards him.

"Give me that." She said briskly as she took the rag from his hands. He seemed surprised to see her still there, as if he had been so sure she would jump at the chance to leave that he hadn't even bothered to check.

"Sit down." She ordered him flatly and turned to grab the first aid kit that was under the Commanders table. She knew where it was of course - she had put it there.

He raised an eyebrow at her tone, but after he understood her intention he obeyed, and was now sitting on his father's chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and waiting for her to move.

Skye took heart and neared him with as much nonchalance as she was capable of. Quietly, feeling his ever watchful eyes on her, she moved to put some disinfectant on a clean gauze. Confusion suited him, she thought as she set up the antiseptic.

They both knew why she was here and it had nothing to do with treating his split lip and bloodied eyebrow, but she was doing it anyway. To thank him maybe… or maybe to make him think that he was getting to her, allow him to think he had the upper hand and his plan was working, that he was luring her in slowly.

… and also because, despite everything, she felt like someone should take care of him, so why not her.

She was the only one willing to do it.

Taking care of Lucas Taylor… What a ludicrous notion. Everyone else thought he was just a physiologically imbalanced genius/psycho. Which he _was,_ of course! But Skye had a feeling he was also something more.

Still, Skye had no idea what she had just done, not really. She did not know how far the echo of her actions sounded. She had confused him, yes, but she had also done something more. In this moment, watching as she got ready to clean him up, Lucas was torn between the instinct to send her away and the need to have her near, letting her do what she wanted with him just for the sake of watching her do it. He did not feel this way very often; usually he knew exactly what he wanted. But right from the very start she had been the variable that refused to conform, refused to step into a sure pattern. She was made up of simple interests, but also of very strong reactions, very powerful emotions that drove her actions, thus generating unpredictable behaviors.

She was the variable that could throw the entire equation off balance.

She was doing it right now, by being this close for no reason other than to clean the blood off him. They both knew that he didn't need that kind of attention, but she was there anyway. A strange feeling winced in Lucas' insides, an anticipation that he only felt when he was on the verge of some great breakthrough in his work.

Exhilaration, curiosity.

He smiled. It had been a long, long time since someone had cleaned his wounds for him – almost ten years. He was curious how it would feel, especially because he was her. The thought made his insides warm up with satisfaction, anticipation.

When she looked at him again, she was prepared for his stare - Or at least so she had thought. What Skye had been prepared for was that spark of intent she had seem in him in the bar, or even the frightening desire he'd been looking at her with moments ago, a look that made her want to crawl as far away from him as possible.

But he was not. He was not wearing either of those expressions.

He was expectant, curious even, looking at her without any strings, schemes or afterthoughts, completely focused on what she was about to do, almost like... like a curious boy.

Skye was floored.

He just looked so... when he was so serene he looked years younger, as if he was barely older than herself: a teen with nothing on his slate but the occasional stupidities. One corner of his lips was pulled a little upward as if what she was doing somehow amused him, but there was no derision in his expression, no pointy irony. His hands were resting on his lap, resting loosely and he was looking at her without any trace of shadow in his eyes, his forehead smooth, relaxed.

He smiled at her when she met his eyes, in that same hesitant way that didn't make the barest sense on Lucas Taylor.

… did it?

Skye angled his head up by pressing two fingers on the side of his jaw. He followed her directions, now having to look at her through his lashes.

"This will sting." She said softly, because she didn't need to be louder. The silence was stifling and he was so close, barely inches away. She said it because it was a habit picked up from working in the clinic, but she had known that he wouldn't care. He didn't even flinch when she dabbed the open cut on the side of his lips. He kept looking at her as if fascinated.

She couldn't help touching him with tips of her fingers as she cleaned him up, but what was startling - and send her heart flying from a strong mix of fear and trepidation - was the way he leaned into her touch minutely, as if he couldn't quite help it.

"Please don't hurt him. He's been through enough..." She pleaded softly, barely keeping her voice from breaking, as she cleaned up the blood entirely from the side of his lips. At her words, his brows furrowed for only one moment.

"Shush." He breathed out the word as if, had he spoken any louder, this moment of calm in the middle of the storm would have been unmade - something which he wanted to avoid any way he could. He didn't want to let go of this yet. In fact, this quiet around the two of them was so pleasant, so soothing, that he felt like he didn't want to let go of it ever – much less let it be tainted by anything inconsequential as Josh Shannon.

Peace like this was so rare for him. Even in the middle of the jungle, in the middle of solitude, his head was noisy, always in an uproar, never giving him any rest no matter how much he wanted it. But with her touch, with her just being there, she managed to stifle the scream of his thoughts for a while, soothe the anxiety that moved inside him like a dragon.

He had no idea how she could, with just stepping in his range of sight, focus all of his concentration on herself and manage to hush everything else into silence. After trying to understand and failing multiple times, he had decided that it didn't really matter how she did it as long as it happened. As long as he was able to look at her and not think about anything else, then mechanics of that hold she had so firmly placed all around and over him became irrelevant – providing she was there in front of him, preferably within touching range, like now.

Because when she wasn't… she became as much of a source of torment as the rest of the thoughts that plagued him.

Skye didn't quite feel the same calmness he did however, and Lucas could see that. She was tense and her hands were a moment away from shaking.

"Relax Bucket. Nothing really bad is going to happen." he said quietly, looking at her with a small smile. She met his eyes, her hand stopping halfway before she reached for more antiseptic.

He was smiling at her that small secretive smile again, the limpidness in his eyes assuring her that he was calm and it all gave her a sense of truth, as if he was being sincere… as if he meant every word.

And maybe she was just that desperate, but this time she chose to believe him. She didn't exactly have an abundance of options. He'd made sure of that. she was aware that she was isolated and alone… paradox ally, she had reached a point where the only help, the only contact, coin come from him.

Her heart shuddered in her chest.

She was alone...

_TBC_


	6. Chapter 6

**6. Part 2**

With a steady hand this time, Skye reached out to him, brushing the tips of two fingers against the side of his jaw, feeling the prickle of his stubble. At the gentle pressure of her touch, he turned his head the other way so that she could better see the right side of his face. His eyebrow and cheekbone were cut and the right side of his face from forehead to cheek was starting to swell, already showing the first signs of trauma.

Boyler's trays were heavy and Josh hadn't really held himself back, Sky found herself thinking with the barest hint of irritation. Lucas had been lucky, his bones were intact – had he been hit any harder, his cheekbone would have probably caved and they'd have to surgically reset it. As it was, some FreeBee cream would take care of the bruise and swelling.

She purposely avoided his eyes and he knew. Knew it from the way she so stubbornly fixed her clear blue eyes on her work, as if she was performing surgery. He knew that she was aware he was looking, because that tiny frown that had pulled her eyebrows together hadn't eased away.

Neither had the soft touch of her fingers moved from the side of his face, the pressure of her touch too gentle to be there just to keep him in place.

She was touching him because she wanted to touch him.

She didn't have to – she wanted to…

Lucas was surprised to find himself so affected by that one tentative touch that she didn't seem aware to be giving – but he was. His heart was beating harder against his chest. Not faster - just harder, as if making itself known to a bearer that had long since forgotten it, taking pleasure in hurting his ribs with its stubborn thumping.

Skye inched forward by a fraction as she delicately spread the transparent cream over his cheek and on the side of his face, taking care not to put it in t e open cut and not to hurt him by pushing too hard. Then she took a little adhesive and put it over the cut on his cheekbone.

"Done." She said, looking back into his eyes… and instantly wished she hadn't.

It was a strange feeling, looking into someone's eyes and realizing that they have been watching you the whole time. Pulling off nonchalance in those kind of situations was impossible, but Skye gave it her best shot anyway.

Predictably, she failed.

His knowing stare didn't allow for any room to hide her sudden uncomfortableness, the hyper-awareness of her surroundings.

And then, when she tried to move away from him to get rid of the blood stained gauze and the rest of the kit, he stopped her, taking her hand in his gently and studying it as if it was an equation that needed to be reconciled…

What was he…?

As if doing it casually and without the barest hint of premeditation, Lucas leaned back into his chair and since her right hand was still securely in both of his, he ended up pulling her closer until she was practically between his open legs. Skye noticed only peripherally - she was a little more preoccupied by how he was tracing her long fingers with his rough ones, as if hers was the first human palm he had seen other than his own and he was just now discovering the shape and form it.

She didn't know why panic gripped her insides every time he came this close. He was nothing but gentle, but the violence he was capable of was always pushing against her memory, as if it was a presence in the room as real as the chair he was sitting on. She just couldn't shake that feeling.

It was almost painful, the way she felt like a fly trapped in a spider's net. Every persistent beat against her breastbone intensified the panic in her, the need to escape from his reach before it was too late. She could literally feel him closing in around her like a trap, the same way she felt his scent all over her, burning inside her lungs, numbing her legs and arms.

Skye had seen this moment coming. She had predicted it, planned on it really, taken it into consideration rationally. She had steeled herself with the resoluteness of someone twice her age to do whatever was necessary given the circumstance. She had not been an innocent lamb beading to slaughter: the possibility of him wanting to do whatever he wanted with her, dangling Josh's life in the line, had been calculated since before she stepped into his presence.

Skye hadn't put it past him. Her mind went back to the bar, to how he had gripped her hand when she had tried to push him away, how persisting he had been, how unrelenting. Lucas liked getting what he wanted and he didn't make himself scruples about how he went about it. He didn't think in terms of right and wrong. If he wanted something she didn't want to give, then he would just take it.

Skye's blood curdled in her veins. In her heart she knew that there was little she wouldn't do to save Josh's life. And she suspected Lucas knew that also. The realization was cold water down her spine.

She had played herself right into his hands… and the worst of it was, she had done it willingly, because she had no other choice. Nobody else had the freedom to bargain with Lucas, the liberty to even look at him in the eye. Nobody except her.

He had probably given her that freedom to get her come and stand on this very spot in this exact moment, right where he wanted her.

It all sounded so like him...

But something else inside her, a little whisper inside her heart that was most likely the blind hope of a sixteen year old girl, kept telling her that she might be wrong, that he wouldn't do it, wouldn't go that far, wouldn't be that vicious.

He wouldn't be that much of an animal.

Please don't be…

Because she didn't want him that way. Because she didn't want to be used that way by _anyone_. But most of all, because if he did that, she would hate him forever… and she really didn't want to do that either.

"You have very small hands despite your long fingers. I doubt you can even hold a gun properly with these." He murmured, his fingertip following a line from her wrist to the tip of her middle finger, leaving a tingling trail in its path.

Skye went along with it, no matter how hard she was trying to keep her breathing patter steady. The oxygen in the room seemed pretty scarce at the moment. She hoped her face didn't show her alarm as much as her heart felt it.

"I can hold a gun very well, thank you. I'm a decent shot too." She said, pretending this was casual conversation. Her voice sounded distant, flat even to her own ears. He noticed, judging from the way he looked up at her, eyes inquiring, wanting to pry the answer from her without the benefit of words.

He angled his head to the side, looking at her as if searching the inside of her skull. Even his eyes were violating: his stare so intent and intelligent that despite her practice in keeping her thoughts hidden, she felt idiotically readable in front of him. Suddenly she felt so incredibly exposed, as if she was standing in front of him naked.

He smiled then so very softly, and Skye didn't know if it was her overactive imagination or not, but she felt as if he was trying to apologize with that smile.

She tried to keep her feet on the ground, not to imagine things. That was never a good sign…

And then – as unexpectedly as ever - he leaned over her hand and planted a kiss right in the center of her palm, his emerald eyes not leaving hers, making Skye's heart jump in overdrive.

She sucked in a sharp breath and pierced her lungs like a blade and kept them from working properly for a moment or three. Her insides shifted violently, the mix of fear, repulsion and exhilaration causing a strong rush of adrenaline explode in her system, which made the room spin. Her face got uncomfortably hot and she felt the need to squirm, to move, do _something_, _anything_ other than just stand there!

His stubble prickled her, adding the much needed touch of reality and harshness to the impossible softness of his lips against her skin.

What was he doing?

After that, Lucas gently let her hand go and Skye took her limb back, feeling it hang down her side in a foreign way, as if he had branded it forever and now it was more his than her own.

Ridiculous!

"Yeah, I'm sure you are." He said softly, looking at her calmly, the hint of a smile in his eyes. "In fact, there's a rumor going around that you were the sniper that shot down almost a dozen of our soldiers the night of the occupation."

Skye's mind was still in overdrive and maybe that helped, because in the face of his so careless accusation she didn't even stiffen. Not because he had spoken so calmly, as if he was talking about something irrelevant in the long run, but because she knew that there was no point in either confirming or denying his words: Lucas never fished for information; whenever he actually asked something, it was for confirmation, not to get a real answer.

She simply limited herself to looking in his eyes calmly waiting for him to finish. The striking jade of his irises seemed a few shades darker now, probably because the only working light was far to their left and it weak yellow glow had difficulties in reaching them properly. I bathed him in a warm glow, lighting him in fascinating shades... yet his shadows were more threatening and prominent than the parts of him the light could reach.

That was the rule with him. He was too unpredictable, too extreme. She just couldn't wrap her mind around the contradictions he was made of.

Right now for example, he was looking at her as if they were the usual friends talking to each other at the end of the day. He seemed so peaceful as if he had shed the burden of all his extreme emotions. All the anger, the hatred, the deathly quietness of his threats, it was all gone, and Skye couldn't help but wonder, without all those shades, what was left?

Who was this person that was looking at her now?

"In fact, coincidence wanted that the bullets found in them – in the soldiers I mean – matched the ones fired from the rifle found near your body." He added casually, as if the argument only took a tiny portion of his interest.

Skye found herself confused – a feeling she should get used to because around him it seemed to happen a lot. What was the purpose of him interrogating her in this fashion - as if he was only vaguely curious, as if the fact that she had shot and killed his soldiers under nobodies orders was not even the point to this discussion.

Skye was wrenched out of her thoughts violently when his knees came together, trapping her in between thighs, holding her there. It wasn't really a constricting hold, more like a reminder of her current position. He loosened his hold a second after. The playful smile on his lips confirmed it, so did the mischievous twinkle in his eyes: he was playing with her. His amusement was vivid, the laughter he had not let out was alive in his eyes, making them dance. He leaned forward a bit and angled his head to the side. Looking up at her like that, it was the closest that Lucas Taylor would ever come to giving puppy eyes.

The thought was so preposterous that it was almost funny.

Was he teasing her?

Skye's thoughts tripped over one another.

What the…?

Did Lucas Taylor suffer from a multiple personality disorder? Sometimes he was a psycho, sometimes a violent mess, others he would smile and play like a 15 year old boy. Which was which? Skye could hardly keep track of him…

"Who taught you how to shoot, Bucket?" He asked, the same curiousness creeping back into his tone as that one time when he had asked her the story behind her nickname.

"Alicia." She responded quietly, eyes never leaving his face. "I mean, Lieutenant Washington." She corrected herself swiftly.

The humor drained from his features then, replaced by something more stinging. His eyes went cold. Did Was and Lucas have some kind of history as well? After all, Was had served with Commander Taylor for a long time, it made sense that she would know his son…

"You know her?" Skye dared to ask.

"Yes, I know her." His tone was curt, and this time she didn't dare question him. That expression over his face was the same on he got whenever his father was mentioned: something in him snapped every time Taylor was even remotely alluded to.

Skye didn't want to poke that sleeping dragon.

When his eyes snapped to her next, he had managed to hold back most of the burning intensity of his hatred, but the cold shadow of his emotions still hung around the edges of his countenance. He stared at her then, as if he was evaluating her all over again and wasn't convinced by the result in his head.

"What are you still doing here Bucket?" He asked suddenly, looking at her with a small frown that while it was not prelude to a threat, it was still less welcoming than other looks he could manage to give her.

"I want you to let Josh go." She responded factually, her tone just to the point as his had been.

Both his eyebrows reached for his hairline in disbelief and a small smile of intricate amusement – with hints of patronizing - made its way on his lips.

"Why should I?" he counteracted swiftly.

Skye almost rolled her eyes impatiently. "We've been through this, it's getting redundant."

Lucas held back from laughing in her face; that would irritate her and ruin his game, and he was enjoying playing with her, curious of where her limits were.

"You're not very good at the whole negotiating process Bucket. Usually when you demand something in that fashion, you have to be sure to have a strong upper hand: something that the other party is sure to want. That's the only way to make an exchange possible."

He had meant to sound condescending, to make her snap at him, lose her composure. He did love it when she fired up in front of him, it made her usually so soft and sweet beauty look feral. But he was disappointed because she did no such thing. Her eyes simply fixed on him and the seriousness of her in that moment was unlike anything he had ever seen on her face before. He couldn't detect a single emotion in her usually so expressive eyes. It was as if her brain was blank.

That unsettled him. All this time Lucas had been directing the conversation by taking his queues from her expressions, her emotions. But now he seemed to be lost, because she was so uncharacteristically void of any reaction.

"I do have something you're interested in." She said somberly, barely moving her lips.

He raised one eyebrow at her. "And what might that be, dear sister?" he asked skeptically, this time genuinely curious, if not a little put off by the topic of choice. The only thing he wanted was his father on his knees before him and he already knew that she couldn't give that to him. Nobody in Terranova trusted her with that kind of information because of her record as a Sixer spy.

She glared at him furiously. "_Don't_ call me that. I'm not your sister, not even close."

Lucas rolled his eyes.

"Alright, I have a proposal: if within the next two minutes you can come up with something that truly interests me and that you can deliver, then I'll let your boyfriend go unharmed. How about that?" he said, knowing full well that whatever argument she might make on anything she thought he might want, he would be able to counteract.

He expected her to start talking then, but again, she did not. She remained there before him, silent and observing him so seriously without uttering a single word.

Suspicion rose within him.

What was she planning?

"Bucket"?

A million thoughts raced through his brain, but none of them centered on what she actually _did_.

This time, it was she who caught him unaware.

In swift moves that took half a second, she stepped close and with a fluidity that zeroed his thoughts and in a blink she was straddling him on the chair, sitting on his lap, hands poised on his shoulders. Her eyes were wide, a mix of shock, fear and determination; her fingers were shaking, but she fisted them on his shirt to keep him from noticing.

She had so thoroughly pulverized his brain that it took him longer than it should have to figure out what she meant to do.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to say something, her lips slanted over his, pushing his head back against the chair, her breasts meshing against his chest. She trapped his upper lip between hers and sucked gently, her lips trembling. He felt the tentative touch of her tongue against his lips, urging him to respond.

That was when he felt his insides burn and all high brain functions abandoned him.

He wasn't entirely sure what happened after that.

All he could remember was feeling as if he was too small for his own skin as a violent shiver ran down his spine, shaking him to the core. Both his hands came up to run through her hair, down her back, pushing her almost violently against him, trapping her there where he could feel as much of her as he could.

The second he opened his lips, her tongue slipped inside his mouth without hesitation, a warm and wet slide over his, tasting of certainty, of desire, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up, every inch of him lighting up as if on fire. He felt the room spin out of control just like his senses did, drunk on her, crazed with a need that seemed to blind his senses to everything that was not her.

Her arms circled his neck more firmly and he hummed, long fingers tangled in his hair and he moaned in her mouth. His insides shifted in time with every breath that expanded her chest, brushing it against his gently and then more firmly in turns. The hint of her nails scrapping against his scalp was more than he thought he could take. His world was spinning violently and she was his momentum.

One hand went to her hair, grabbed on and angled her head to the side, as he finally felt coherent enough to take control of the kiss. He pushed his tongue inside her mouth and tasted, nipped, sucked, pulling at her lips and licking them, drinking in her tiny moans with a satisfaction that had no comparison, tangling his tongue with hers in a way that made him groan with urgency, desperation. The pressure of her hands on his arms, on his shoulders, on the back of his neck sending bursts of acute pleasure deep in his gut, down his legs and between them.

Her name, her real name this time, passed through his lips in a breathy moan.

She was soft all over, her skin smooth and sweet, the taste of her heady. He groaned when she trapped the tip of his tongue between her lips playfully, the sound getting lost between them as he fell back on her lips with a desperation that made her moan something that sounded a lot like his name… he was almost unmade then, almost torn apart as he realized that he would go to absurd lengths just to hear his name fall from her lips that way just one more time.

And then another…

And another…

Using both his hands he cupped her face, unable to hold back from deepening the kiss, trying to possess her fully, feeling like she was touching him directly under his skin, on his exposed nerves. Her moan rattled through him like an aftershock and he pulled her even closer, his desperation for her acute, piercing his chest and rattling his soul.

That was what had caught Skye by surprise, turning the tables on her: His need, the raw feeling with which he was touching her, kissing her as if his existence depended on it. She felt overpowered, his passion pulling her under to a place where she couldn't tell the difference between coercion and desire. That line had blurred, sides melting into one another and then disappearing altogether, with the rest of the world until nothing remained but this strange feelings between them, the urgency, the raw need and desperation that seemed to have come out of the blue.

This kiss had nothing to do with anything. It was a standalone, a universe in itself.

She'd never kissed like this, she hadn't even known something like this was even possible… her whole being was concentrated where their lips met, where their skins touched. Her breath was heavy, her heart was fluttering so fast she thought it was trying to escape her breast, her emotions raging violently inside her, mixing in her gut and liquefying elsewhere. Her skin was on fire, and she felt needy, raw and on edge, unable to tell - or even remember - when his hunger had stripped her open and become her own as well. But now she was in the throes of it and it felt like being reborn as wave after wave of him crashed over her, making her clench and moan and feel so much _all at once_ that she thought she was going to pass out from the intensity.

And still she wanted more, clung closer, held on tighter.

It was like being lost and then found and she let herself be drowned in his fervor, allowed herself to catch fire with him, followed his lips when he pulled away to such a breath and opened up fully whenever he came to her again, more forceful then before, trying to imprint himself in every corner of her, trying to get under her skin and holding on to her as if he wanted to absorb her under his.

When his mouth pulled away from hers from air, he took hold of her hair, making her angle her head to the side. And when his lips found her neck and bit the tender skin of her throat, she shook as if his lips were electric, her legs tightening around him convulsively, hands fisting in his hair and keeping him there, the scratching feel of his stubble so different from the impossible softness of his open-mouthed wet kisses that the duality was making her bite her lip hard to keep from being ridiculously loud. His hands dove under her shirt and burned at her skin, tracing her whole back with hungry open palms. She bit his earlobe, then sucked it in her mouth when he nipped at her throat a little too hard, making her insides clench violently, deliciously… and still incomplete, for some reason, which only increased her craving.

Foreign, breathy sounds came out of her mouth - his name probably somewhere in there too - sounds that she'd never even heard herself make, not even when alone at night in her bed.

And he was all over her again, this time knowing so very well how, knowing where - sucking at her lower lip, sliding his tongue in and out of her mouth slowly, the sensation maddening as every nerve ending she had of her burned with need. His slowness, his taking his time with her flesh, set her aflame with a new urgency that made her impatient, wanting for a strong impact and not gentle teasing.

She bit his lower lip hard enough to make him wince, and after that he wasn't so gentle anymore.

His hand came around and without the barest hint of hesitation, he engulfed her breast, squeezing, molding it to his palm, groaning when he realized that under her tank top she was bare, smooth, so deliciously soft that he felt he would literately die if he didn't bury himself inside her in the next two seconds.

At his touch, Skye felt her neck give out, head hanging back as a moan bubbled up and her hands buried themselves in his hair, pulling none too gently, scratched the back of his neck, so feverish she was unaware of what she was doing. When she kissed him the next moment, holding on to his face with both hands, there was a deliriousness about her that completely floored him, that pulled him under.

An impatient sound rumbled from his chest, muffled between their mouths. With both his hands, he grabbed her ass and pressed her to him firmly enough to make them both gasp, effectively stopping all their movements as the electric feelings ran down their spines and all over them both. Their eyes snapped open as their mouths hovered over each other, still close enough for their lips to brush as their heavy breaths went into each other.

She could feel him even through their clothes and it made her insides shift and tighten, her head felt strangely heady, as if drunk, the desire that was still coursing through her veins clogging her brain. Her hands were on his shoulders, holding on tightly and she didn't know if she was holding him close or trying to push herself away.

She just knew she was not afraid…

Lucas pushed her hips into his again experimentally, and marveled at the feel of them together, the feel of her. Ecstasy shot up his spine and tightened his grip on her hips, but it was the look of her that almost unmade him: her breath left her lungs loudly as her forehead fell on his, her lids became heavy, her eyes darkened with desire as hot as his own, lips barely skimming over his torturously as if she wanted to kiss him but didn't quite remember how to.

He pushed them together again, firmly this time, both feeling each other exactly where they most needed to and it was not enough, not even close, but it was still fucking amazing and she threw her head back by just a fraction, her chin coming close to his lips, giving him the perfect reason to kiss it, bite it. She whispered his name breathlessly, her tone bordering between a plea and an order, nails digging into his skin hard enough to leave marks. She pushed back against him firmly enough to bring him so very close to the edge of snapping…

But if he allowed himself to go that far, there would be no going back. If she changed her mind, he found himself asking if he would care.

He didn't want to find out.

Lucas tightened his grip on her hips and pushed her back, drawing a confused look from her.

He managed a tight smile and, keeping the hold he had on her waist secure, he stood up, making her yelp and hold on to his shoulders as her feet found the ground again. He kept her hands on her waist, his fingers tracing patters on her skin. Her hands fell down his arms and settled near his elbows, holding on loosely as if she was not sure what to do with them.

She didn't know yet how to feel about his rejection: she was as relieved as she was disappointed, and both feelings were prominent… but right now the embarrassment was taking over fast.

Her eyes hadn't left his for a second, but now that the frenzy of the moment was ebbing – albeit slowly – a blush was starting to spread over her cheeks that had nothing to do with the excitement of a few moments before. Now she felt the heat disperse, a strange chill settling over her skin, the weight of her action already heavy on her conscience.

She wasn't sorry for what she had done.

What had shocked her, what she still couldn't quite wrap her mind around, was the fact that she had enjoyed it…

Skye pulled her hands away from him slowly, denying him her eyes as she looked down and tried to control her breathing and in that moment Lucas understood what she was thinking as surely as if her eyes were speaking him the words.

Cupping her face in his hands so very gently, he made her look at him, at the tenderness in his eyes. He leaned down slowly, deliberately letting her read his intention. Then his lips brushed over hers so impossibly softly once… and then another time, and another and he felt her respond tentatively, shyly this time. One hand reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, bringing herself closer to him, to his lips and his heat. She almost stepped on his feet and she felt the curve of his smile against her lips.

It was surprisingly easier to pretend everything was ok when they were mouth to mouth like this. Alone she could never ignore the world around her, a consequence of her life depending on always being aware of everything. …but with him, now, like this, allowing his passion to take over them both was the easiest thing, and it seemed to make time stop. Reality held its breath for them.

Their mouths slated gently, sweetly, need awakening again but more aware of itself this time, the heat of this second kiss different, slow and all consuming like lava… a little too real, much more so than something between the two of them should have been.

The kiss pulled at her chest this time, almost painfully, and she couldn't help the whimper, the almost constriction of her throat.

What was wrong with her…?

When he pulled back, he let his forehead rest on hers and breathed her in, his thumbs tracing that part of her face they could reach. Then he straightened, his hand withdrawing from her face in a last caress and fixed her disarrayed hair behind her ears. Skye took back the hand that had been clenching at his shirt.

He was looking at her with the same fascination as always, with tenderness almost, as he ran his hands through her hair. She could feel her heart heavy in her chest now, all her wrongs and mistakes weighting twice as heavy on her soul, her new sins fresh in her mind, pressing against her brain painfully.

But this time, she had the forethought to hide it from him…

"Fix your shirt and wait for me outside." He said softly. "Your Shannon is going to need someone to take him to the infirmary. I doubt his mother would appreciate him being escorted in by soldiers."

_AN: I tried really hard to make these two last chapters the best I could write, and I hope I've done this particular moment - and the characters - justice. I'm very nervous about the make-out scene, since I don't feel that kind of stuff is really my thing. I hope it succeeds in giving off some kind of emotional intensity :)  
Please let me know your thoughts, I'm dying over here!_


	7. Chapter 7

**7.**

Josh kept screaming for his father as the guards escorted him out and practically threw him in Skye's arms. She felt her knees buckle against this weight.

"Josh…"

"Why did you get me out? I…"

But Skye didn't have time for his heroic streak right now.

"Hush." She whispered harshly, putting an arm around him and trying to drag him to his mother's clinic. "We have to get you to your mom, fix you up."

"I'm fine." He said stubbornly.

"Tell that to your face."

"What did you do? Why did he let me go?" Josh asked stiffly and Skye felt her already ripe temper flare. But she tried to contain it because it was not really him she was mad at.

"You shouldn't be asking me that." She said just as stiffly. Josh tried to support a little more of his own weight and she was grateful for it. This way the trip to the clinic would be faster.

"Did he hurt you?"

It was a whisper right by her ear, the concern, guilt, grief – it was all palpable in his tone and Skye felt her eyes well up, her throat constrict.

_Oh Josh…_

"No. No I promise, he didn't hurt me. I just asked him… nicely. He has a thing for me, I think." She added then, because it would make her previous words credible and because it would have been pointless to deny it. Josh could see the fascination Lucas had for her,it wasn't like Lucas tried to hide it. And Skye wanted to use that knowledge Josh had against him. it would be easy, Josh didn't know the inner workings of Lucas's mind well enough to realize that Lucas ever doing anything to get in anybody's good graces was a ridiculous notion. Lucas didn't milk favors. He _took_ what he wanted using more conniving, nefarious ways.

And if that didn't work… he simply took.

Skye shuddered at the thought.

Josh gritted his teeth. "I saw what kind of a _thing_ he has for you in the bar." He almost growled. "You need to steer clear of him, he's dangerous."

Skye snorted. Nobody knew how dangerous Lucas Taylor could be better than she did.

"_Really_? You think I don't know that?"

Yes, that was precisely what Josh thought. He thought Skye didn't really understand the nature of the danger Lucas Taylor could be for her. That man – that _psychopathic sadist_ – looked at her like a starved carno looks at its fresh prey. He tracked her like a predator and Josh feared that Lucas would stop playing with his food sooner or later and actually go for the kill.

The mere thought of Skye at his mercy made Josh's blood boil with uncontrolled rage.

When they entered the clinic, Skye called out for Doc Shannon and the woman came running towards them, paling when she saw her son's state.

"Oh god…"

Her hand were shaking, but the doc got herself under control in a matter of moments, quickly going about the best way to stitch her son up with the minimal amount of pain. But Skye was a little more taken by the fact that Alicia Washington was right behind doc Elisabeth, as if she had been there the entire time.

Skye's eyes met Wash's and the she girl tried to read what was going on without having to ask for it, but Wash's face gave nothing away. Not while Skye was still in the room. It broke Skye's heart that even after all that had happened these past few days, even after knowing her reasons for her betrayal, they didn't trust her anymore.

Just like Lucas had said...

Skye gritted her teeth. She was not going to let him grit into her head. she was smarter than that. she was stronger too.

"He baited you." Skye said softly, looking at Josh.

Josh looked up at her from the bed – and so did his mother, both unable to understand what she was talking about.

"Back at the bar, he hurt me to get you riled up, so that you'd attack him. Then he'd have the perfect excuse to hurt you, because he wanted to get to your father." At the silence that followed her words, Skye explained herself further.

"Don't you see, it was all a plan. _I_ was not the target, Mister Shannon was because he can tell Lucas where the Commander is." Skye looked at him, doc Elisabeth and Wash with wide eyes, trying to make them understand.

"Where is Jim now?" Elisabeth asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Lucas has him." Skye replied, knowing that she did not need to give too many details over what was going on there in the brig, not after Elisabeth had just finished stitching up her son's wounds. She was a smart woman, she would use her imagination.

"He thinks my dad is contacting Taylor." Josh concluded.

Skye huffed – Josh still didn't get it, he didn't even _try_ to track the way Lucas' mind worked.

"He _knows_ you father is in contact with Taylor. What he wants to know now is the Commander's whereabouts, and he's not going to stop until he gets what he wants. Lucas is not a patient man Doc, the situation get more dangerous for your husband by the minute." Skye looked from Alicia to Josh finally Elisabeth.

"You have to find a way to get out of Terranova." She said finally, and it took all of her courage not to stutter. It wasn't her place to make those kinds of suggestions: whoever even neared the gates was shot on sight… but Skye had a feeling that the alternative was going to be just as bad for the Shannon family of they didn't get moving. Skye locked eyes with doc Elisabeth, trying to make her realize the importance of these words.

"If Lucas doesn't get a word from your husband, he is coming after each and every one of you, until the sheriff breaks and gives him what he wants." She said slowly and knew that the doctor believed her. And why shouldn't she, it was the pure truth. Skye did not need to see it happen to know that was the way things were going to go.

When the two women in the room gave no reaction, she decided she might as well be thorough.

"It was what he was going to do with Josh." Sky murmured, feeling lower than dirt as the words left her mouth when she watched how doc Elisabeth paled at hearing them.

"Did he tell you that?" Wash asked in a breath, eyes wide as saucers, the dread in them making her appear more human for once.

Skye steeled herself. "I guessed. He confirmed." she answered quietly.

Nobody spoke to contradict her for a moment, Josh was staring at Skye with wide eyes.

"She is right." Wash finally said, coming to stand side by side with Skye. "You always knew that this may have to happen at some point Liz. Your family was always too much of an easy target but now, with Jim in the open, it's only a matter of time before Lucas comes for you."

"Alright." The doc said, nodding and breathing hard. "Alright then. We need a plan and I think I know what to do. Josh, can you walk?"

"Yes." Was his prompt answer.

"Good, get your sister ready."

"But…"

"No buts. I want you all ready to go in 10 minutes."

"I want Skye to come with us." Josh said firmly, the same resolve in his eyes that had been present in his mother. Elisabeth looked at him in surprise and then she turned to look at Skye in silent contemplation.

Josh continued.

"She's not safe here, Lucas is after her and you both know that. He's _obsessed_ with her or something… he's going to hurt you at some point Skye."

Josh's eyes stared deep into hers and between the two of them the truth was pain, it didn't even need her confirmation. Skye knew that he was right. Maybe not in the way Josh _thought_ he was right, but that didn't matter. She knew Lucas was dangerous and she knew that he could and _would_ hurt her – exactly how he was going to do that was inconsequential in the long run.

Skye swallowed hard. Truth was that she wanted nothing more than to pull herself away from Lucas Taylor's grasp and leering eyes… but she couldn't do that. There was an untamable anger that boiled in her blood, a dangerous feeling that had been locked into the depths of her soul for three years and that now wanted out. She wanted to let her feelings loose for the first time and she wanted to unleash every single hurt and painful scar that the Sixers had branded on her through the years.

She realized with a start, that she wanted revenge.

For a moment her heart seemed to stop.

She was _not_ like him… was she?

_No_! No, she was _not_.

Because it wasn't really blind pain she was after, not really revenge, no. It was retaliation and there was a difference. She could have let go of all the suffering she endured a the hands of the Sixers through the years, of all they made her do. She could move on and forget it, because it had been her voice after all. But now, not only count she let go of the past, but she had to put up with them invading her home and destroying it. Destroying everything her parents had fought for, everything she had ever loved. After all the suffering, she had to stand there and let them ruin everything?

No, she couldn't let them do that. Not when she had given up three years of her life protecting her home and the future her parents had wanted for her even when her life was on the line… as well we her mother's life. Every time she decided not to tell Mira something, every secret she held back, all those times, she had risked her life. And every lie she ever told, every information she gave away had cost her another piece of her soul.

No, Skye had fought too hard, sacrificed too much to chose the easier way out now, just because Lucas Taylor was a sexually repressed phyco.

She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her give up.

Besides…

She still had so many amends to make. If there was anyone in Terranova that deserved to get the short stick, it was her. She had been betraying her home for years after all, she owed it to her city to fight hard and fight well.

"Skye is needed here Josh." Wash said firmly, startling the young girl who looked up at their lieutenant with something a lot akin to confusion, even shock. "You are the only one in the colony that can move as you like without any restriction. When Jim leaves, I want you to be the inside contact."

Sky almost bucked under that information, because of the weight it carried, the danger in involved… and because it showed that finally, Alicia was ready to trust her again. Which meant that laterally, Taylor was beginning to trust her again too.

The fact that Alicia herself could never be the one to keep contacts with Taylor went without saying. They watched her like hawks – in fact, in most cases she had served as a diversion, acting suspicious on purpose to draw their attention away from the real trouble.

"_No_! She can't stay here! She's risking too much already." Josh almost yelled, but Skye's hand on his arm stopped him and he looked at her with wide blue eyes full of desperation. But the steadiness in her own eyes, the firm expression on her face told him more than he needed to know.

She had already made up her mind.

"I can't leave Josh." She said softly. And then, she added with more strength, with unwavering determination. "I won't. I'm going to stay where I'm most useful that right now, that is here."

The pain in his eyes welled so fast that she felt her heart break all over again for him and the urge to have her arms around him was undeniable, a strong pull she did not want to fight, something that she felt she could not resist, because if she did she risked being torn apart from the inside in ways she had never experienced. When Skye put her arms around his chest and pulled him tight, she had expected him to be tense, to refuse to give in to her because of what she had said… but he didn't.

He melted right into her, arms pulling her into his frame strongly, almost curling around her as if he was trying to absorb her under his own skin. She kept a firm hold on him as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his desperation, need, his _love_ - hot and intense and undiluted by anything else - rolling off him in powerful waves, overwhelming her… comforting her.

When Josh left, Skye felt strangely void and numb, as if she had been drained of all emotions and strength.

When she looked up and saw Alicia staring at her intently, she remembered s half forgotten thought she had had before.

"He hates you." Skye managed to get out, thought with her sudden deflation even the simple act of talking seemed to take up too much energy. Alicia's focus sharpened so visibly that for the first time Skye was curious about all the back story to her and Lucas.

"He told you that too?"

The disbelief in the older woman's voice was mixed with another emotion that flashed briefly in her dark eyes, as if the lieutenant couldn't quite believe that Lucas had actually talked about that with the unassuming teen in front of her.

Skye shook her head and at the girl's denial Alicia felt a little disappointed. The Lucas Alicia had known had always been like a high security vault: nothing casual ever left his lips. Hie every word, his every gesture always served a purpose. But Skye seemed to be able to get the most peculiar information out of him, going so far as knowing personal things that Lucas would rather die than admit out loud.

"I could tell by the way he reacted when I mentioned you." Before Alicia voice the question behind her eyes and frown, Skye volunteered the explanation. "He asked who taught me to shoot."

Alicia nodded stiffly. She waited a beat, took a deep breath and then started taking.

"Elisabeth is going to need a diversion. You and I are going to provide that… if you want in."

Skye's breath froze in her lungs as she looked over at the other woman.

Alicia had never been a mother figure, she had never been Skye's best friend. But she had _always_ been there, always. She was simply Alicia, the woman that her mother had been best friend with, who took Skye swimming, who showed her the cool spots to hang out near the colony's perimeter. She was the one that was always there when Skye needed someone to just _be_ there – not to talk, not to vent, but just to counteract solitude, and those moments had been very frequent in the last years. Growing up Skye had gotten less talkative during their meetings, so much that sitting under the big tree at the edges of the fields and watching the sun go down in silence had become a tradition that brought them together every now and then.

Alicia never asked, never tried to fill the silences with small talk or questions. They both enjoyed each other's silent company and it had always been that way so Skye never had to worry about Alicia being suspicious.

And now the woman was asking her to risk her life to get a family out of Terronova.

Skye smiled.

"I'm in."

_ AN: Im sorry for the long delay and for the crappiness of this chapter. My life has been really crappy itself lately and that kind of soiled my writing. I hope to add another chapter soon, and i'm going to try my best to make it good._


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